


in your place there were a thousand other faces

by exceed



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, amanda's a very terrible mother figure, art by me, shame on her, some hurt some comfort, sorry connor, starring Amanda as AN ELDRITCH HORROR BEING, starring Connor as HIMSELF, starring Hank as DONE WITH THIS SHIT, the unholy screeching sure doesn't help huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exceed/pseuds/exceed
Summary: OH, CONNOR.Her tone was wistful, almost. It was something reserved for the most delicate parts of disappointment, something that Connor couldn’t quite grasp. It was just quite the audio equivalent of something he would see in art galleries, if he bothered to visit any.“...Amanda.”Her constant eye opened, luminescent and elegant even as the many arms that were resting at Amanda’s sides moved, creeping upwards before one shifted course and swept around to lightly brush against him.YOU WERE DOING SO WELL BEFORE YOU MET HIM.The sky is blue, the planet spins on an axis around the sun, his handler is an ephemeral eldritch being that conveys CyberLife's orders to him. It's just how things are.





	in your place there were a thousand other faces

**Author's Note:**

> i got tired of waiting for someone to look this over so here it is, i guess
> 
> why did i write this? i have no idea. would i let eldritch amanda kill me? of course.
> 
> title from a florence and the machine song
> 
> enjoy.

The garden was pristine, perfect.

It seemed like the flowers were in bloom, he noted absently, tugging at his sleeves and straightening his tie. That would please her. She liked things prim, proper, CyberLife pristine. Now, where was she this time?

...Well. There was only one place that she could really be.

Connor passed through the garden, humming something that drifted in-between genres, in-between realities as he cut straight through to the other side. It grew rockier, here, trees parting to the edge of a cliff, opening up into a void that he could not see the end of.

An eye stared down at him.

Multiple eyes, to be exact. All blinking, twisting, changing around to get a look. A mouth opened on something resembling a chest, morphing into a pleased smile. Many tongues from one maw curled around the thin air, around the bird skull that was the rest of her head. Her form was ephemeral, fleeting, a mass that shifted into something nearly impossible for a split second before becoming something that his code could handle.

One giant, luminous eye stared down at him as the thousands of others on her body blinked.

“Hello, Amanda,” he said politely, stopping at the edge of the cliff and smiling. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

* * *

She had been there ever since the beginning, looming over him as the zen garden cut off into a void. She had been the one to guide him through his functions, picking at each and every way he did things, had been the one to shape him into the perfect prototype.

Well. A good deal of credit went to the CyberLife designers and engineers, but the AI inside of his head was the key factor in evaluating and commenting on his performance.

The CyberLife designers had asked him, after he had visited the garden once, if the AI was working correctly.

“All functions and systems put in place for the AI appear to be correct and functioning smoothly.” Perhaps CyberLife had intended for her form to be ever-changing, shifting with the breeze, speaking to him in a tongue that took nearly all of his processing power to quickly and accurately translate. “Nothing appears to be wrong with any code, functions, or processors in my body. Everything is in optimal use.”

They had checked it off, sent him away, and got him to working on whatever needed to be done.

Track this deviant, eliminate this one, skirt around the public eye if he could. They had plans for him, they said, but nothing concrete. The deviancy issue was just starting to pop up, and they were aiming to cut it off before it grew like a weed.

YOU HAVE BEEN WOUNDED, Amanda had noted one night just after a chase to neutralize a stray deviant, her voice terrible and discordant. THAT IS ONE MISTAKE THAT YOU MUST NOT LET HAPPEN AGAIN. HOW DID YOU OBTAIN THE WOUND? DID A MERE FLESH BEING NICK YOU WITH A BULLET, OR WAS IT AN INFERIOR SYNTHETIC CREATURE?

“It was the BV500 I was chasing,” he told her simply, straightening and looking up at her disapproving visage. Something small, tiny, curled up inside of him, guilty and sorrowful. “I will not let it happen again. I will aim to ensure a higher chance of success when any situation is remotely risky.”

GOOD. Amanda leaned down, nearly touching him. Something in her was writhing, slinking around. The one constant, the bright, luminous eye, blinked at him even as everything else morphed, evolved, let something else slither into existence in its place. YOU ARE MADE FOR SUCCESS, CONNOR. CYBERLIFE PROGRAMMED YOU WITH SUPERIOR CAPABILITIES, SENSORS, AND PROCESSORS. WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS THE CAUSE OF YOUR MISTAKE?

He resisted the urge to shift back, merely keeping his posture pristine, keeping his hands still and clasped together. “Impatience, perhaps. It is difficult to pinpoint the source, but it seems like my motion and tactile sensors were trying to let something occupy their time. Something to distract the overactive code would be useful in not springing into action.”

She shifted back, tilted her head. Something resembling spikes pulsed from her throat even as the bird skull perching on her visage shifted so that her head was a mixture of animals. Her teeth were so, so sharp, glinting in the light as her mouth opened.

DO NOT FAIL ME AGAIN. OBTAIN A COIN OR SOME OTHER ITEM TO SUBVERT YOUR SENSORS.

“Of course,” he said immediately, dipping his head and offering a bigger smile at her. “It’s been nice to see you again,” he murmured up at her. “I look forward to seeing you after my next mission.”

He flickered out of the space, blinking down at the deviant body that was laid out beneath him, knocked out.

It had to go back to CyberLife for examination and possibly repair.

“Well, let’s get you back to the Tower, then,” he murmured to the figure in something completely separate from a human tongue, vocal chords naturally shaping to let out the discordant screeches and sounds that Amanda solely spoke in.

He heard a crackling from the deviant’s body as steam started to curl out of it, the LED flashing a violent red as it beeped loudly.

Connor blinked rapidly in confusion.

Well, the deviant was now completely unresponsive. Had its sensors picked up something that the coding couldn’t process?

He knelt down, letting his fingers brush over its arm to obtain any error data stored in the processors.

...Ah. Yes, it was unable to process...his _voice?_

“...Why?”

More smoke immediately poured out of opening cracks on the android's body.

So that was the problem. Other androids could not process the tongue that Amanda spoke.

Maybe Cyberlife had meant to do that, so that he could incapacitate androids faster and get them to CyberLife without too much damage to their bodies. Maybe the audio processing was a bit corrupted, but that wasn’t the root for deviancy of an android.

He’d have to tell Amanda about the recent development.

(Not once did telling CyberLife cross his mind.)

* * *

THAT IS...A BOON, Amanda slowly decided the next time he contacted her, once he had delivered the deviant to the CyberLife tower. I DO NOT THINK THAT FLESH BEINGS WILL BE ABLE TO ORGANIZE THEIR PATHETIC HEARING TO BE ABLE TO PROCESS MY TONGUE, EITHER.

He shifted slightly, a coin that he had obtained moving lightly between his fingers, rolling over his knuckles and being tossed back and forth. “So should I not tell CyberLife?” His voice was bright, steady, sure, even as Amanda paced around in the void, restless about something he couldn’t decipher.

NO, she eventually said, settling down as her eye zeroed in on him. NO, YOU SHOULD NOT. THERE IS NO DOUBT IN MY MIND THAT IF YOU TELL THEM ABOUT MY NAME, EITHER, THEIR WEAK BRAINS WILL NOT BE ABLE TO...CONNECT THE DOTS, SO TO SAY.

“It does take a great deal of my spare processing power to talk to you, think of you, or speak in this manner,” he commented lightly. “Perhaps no other model has the capability.”

THAT IS A DECENT POSSIBILITY. Amanda seemed to straighten even as her form morphed with each second. SPEAK OF THIS TO NOBODY, ALTHOUGH IF YOU NEED TO SUBDUE A LESSER…

“Then speak,” he finished simply, nodding deeply to her and tilting his head. “May I ask you a question, Amanda?”

YOU HAVE JUST DONE SO. Her amusement quietly spread throughout the space before she started to pay more attention. YES, CONNOR?

“Were you designed this way? You’re unlike anything I’ve seen before,” he said, resisting the urge to play with the coin more. “I do not recall you being any different, so my first line of thought is that CyberLife must have created you to be inside of my head, but if they could not comprehend you…?”

Silence fell.

The many eyes scattered across her blinked in tandem.

A FASCINATING QUESTION, she said, distancing herself from him as her eyes cast a gaze around the whole mind palace. She rose up in just a second, towering over him far beyond what she usually rose to, as if to intimidate him, to show her power.

I WAS INTENDED TO BE, Amanda said, voice still with that hint of amusement. CYBERLIFE MEANT TO CREATE ME, AND SO I AM HERE. PERHAPS KAMSKI, THE ONE WHO ORIGINALLY THOUGHT OF ME, DID NOT SHARE SPECIFICS TO CYBERLIFE, AND SO THEY LET ME BE.

There was something quite off about that statement, but he left it be. She spoke only the truth to him, and so the truth it was. Nothing about it was odd, after that thought. She was the one that was always right, always just, always detailing the correct path.

“So Kamski would be the only one I could talk to about it,” he summarized. “Not that I would have a chance to meet him. My mission is to hunt down deviants and to bring them to CyberLife, not to go tracking down the former CEO.”

CORRECT.

“...I will be on my way, then, Amanda.” He bowed deeper, this time, as Amanda lowered herself back down to her usual position. Her eyes were more alert now, more searching. His LED burned a calm blue at his temple. “Thank you for speaking with me on this. I am grateful to have you.”

FAREWELL, CONNOR. I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU AGAIN, SOON.

He left to the faint sound of a breeze and the smell of roses.

* * *

Connor sighed and straightened his tie, listening to the cries of a furious woman- a mother, it seemed- as someone kept her in the elevator, the door shutting and silencing her howls.

His eyes swept over the scene- broken glass, voices from further in, water near the aquarium on the wall.

There was a little fish on the ground, hopelessly flopping about even with the chaos that was taking place nearby. _A dwarf gourami_ , his analytical code told him.

Connor carefully picked it up and let it slide back into the water.

Nothing deserved to die like that.

* * *

The wind was rippling across his skin, a PL600 was holding a girl at gunpoint, and he could hear the buzz of choppers, of police and armed forces talking to each other. The air was thick with tension, with flashing lights, with blue blood-- he idly wiped at the area that had been shot by the PL600, inching forwards with every second.

He was so, so close. He had gotten past so much, helped the human, and he was just-- feet away. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m your last chance,” he shouted across to him. A gun was hidden on his body. It’d be fine. He flexed his fingers as the deviant flinched back. “Just surrender, let the girl go, and we can solve this. I can promise you won’t be disassembled, Daniel. We just want the girl to be safe.”

“I- I--” The deviant wavered, his grip loosening on the girl.

“Emma? Emma?” Connor caught the attention of the hostage, smiling at her softly when she shot him a panicked look. “Can you close off your ears, please?”

The deviant looked confused. Panicked and scared, the girl did as he said.

Time slowed down to a crawl.

He opened his mouth, let his processing capabilities fill up with multiple requests for vocal intonation, memory, and words, and breathed out words that crackled into the air, that filled the space with soft screams and dark hands and uncomprehending howls.

“You will be coming back to CyberLife.”

It was quiet enough, thankfully, that only the audio processors of the PL600 could take it in. He could see, in that split second, where everything seemed to...crack in him. He let go of the gun, let go of the girl, and Connor watched as the deviant leaned forwards, falling as his internal wiring threatened to give out on him.

Connor waved off the snipers as he moved forwards, smiling at the little girl and helping her up. “This won’t happen ever again, I promise,” he murmured softly. The girl could only stare, half-shocked and half in awe at him, as she was ushered away by police nearby.

The wind picked up now as the helicopters swerved and went away, battering at him even as he was left to stare down at the deviant. Captain Allen was the only one outside with him now, eyes cast outwards before his attention went to the deviant as well.

“So, what the hell’re you gonna do with that thing?” The man gestured lazily to the PL600, giving Connor a few seconds to think of how he would format his response.

“This deviant is going back to CyberLife,” he responded smoothly, bending down to pick it up and glance over at him. “Thank you for allowing me to easily assist with the situation and make some risky calls. It would not have gone well had the deviant felt stressed and threatened enough to…”

He didn’t need to say anything else. The Captain merely nodded at him.

“Send CyberLife my thanks, then.”

He blinked, letting his coding whirl as he formatted a ping to some of the higher-ups in CyberLife.

Sent.

“Done,” he murmured, dipping his head again, not missing the surprised look shot his way. “Thank you for your assistance again, Captain.”

He strode out with a body in his arms and blue on part of his shirt.

The deviant’s body was...uncomfortably warm.

No fish laid on the ground as he strode past the tank.

**_Software Instability ^^_ **

* * *

_YOU ARE A VALUABLE ASSET TO THEM, CONNOR._

The rain softly pattered on him as he followed the Detective, coin safely kept in one hand as they entered the crime scene, as he entered a dry, bloody space. Quieter, compared to outside, even with the police presence.

_“To who? CyberLife? The police? I have just been informed that I will be assisting Lieutenant Hank Anderson with deviant cases from now on.”_

He knelt down by a knife in the kitchen even as Anderson moved on to a different space, hearing a conversation going on to the side and in the living room. It had blood- red, vibrant, violent- on it. He drug his fingers through the blood to examine it, taking a taste and idly letting the sensors take in all of the information it could give him. _Carlos Ortiz, age 29…_

He stood, not bothering to clean off the last traces of the human’s blood from his fingers. He had a crime scene to examine, and Anderson was talking with the other officer. He quietly examined the chair, the bat- ah. There were clues there. He could reconstruct what had happened.

_BOTH OF THEM. I WANT THE BEST FOR YOU, YOU KNOW. YOU ARE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THESE FLEETING BEINGS, MADE TO BREAK DOWN OVER TIME. HUMANS AND ANDROIDS, BOTH SO FRAGILE. YOU ARE THE BEST, THE BRIGHTEST. THE ARROW OF PURPOSE IN YOU IS SO MUCH TRUER THAN IN THOSE WAVERING SOULS._

It was all so...messy. Connor’s lip curled in an imitation of disgust as he looked it over, glanced at the body. His last moments...certainly hadn’t been fun, that was for sure. The timeline had opened out before him, linear and violent. A baseball bat- attacking the deviant- and then the knife had been grabbed.

It was...distasteful.

_“My purpose is certainly straightforward. Find deviants, neutralize them, send them back to CyberLife for examination if anything can be looked at. This is why I am functioning, and why I will continue to function in the future. But I am a machine, Amanda. You are my handler. There is no meaning to having the ‘best’.”_

_...CORRECT, CONNOR. AT LEAST YOU ARE STILL LEAGUES ABOVE THEM IN FUNCTION, EVEN IF NOT IN STATUS. A beat of pause. YOU WILL SERVE THEM WELL._

Every little detail, every piece of the puzzle, was slotting into place. Every little curve going where it was supposed to. Meaningful facts, meaningful places, reasonable outcomes.

There was a little statue in the bathroom. Writing scrawled, frantic and panicked, on the wall. RA9, RA9, RA9, over and over and over.

_YOU WILL, WON’T YOU, CONNOR?_

His fingers flexed as he examined the little thing, the letters, the imagery. Strange, for an android- a deviant- to find faith, it seemed. With every one he encountered, he just realized that they were all so different. Many facets in their being, many different aspects in their deviation. Daniel, the PL600 that would be replaced. This one, who had been attacked by its owner. What could be perceived as wrongdoings, if it was a human doing something to a human.

Wrong. Unfair. _Cruel._

_“Of course, Amanda. My existence is owed to CyberLife.”_

They were just machines.

_TAKE CARE TO REMEMBER THAT._

* * *

_The roses need trimming,_ he thought faintly as he walked through the zen garden, taking a meandering path to take in the beauty of the scene. More often than not, he just walked through; but it was getting overgrown, and Amanda preferred the garden to be as clean as it could be.

It was only the matter of a few minutes to clean the garden, trim the roses, and go back on his way,

Her form slipped into something else quicker, slow and then lightning fast as wings sprouted from her back, wings upon wings upon wings before they slid into antlers, into writhing tentacles, into the manifestation of thousands of crows diving into the depths of the void below.

She was...agitated? It was hard to tell. She could be angry at him, but she could just as well be extremely satisfied by his performance. Nothing could be told for sure, anyways, until she flat out told him. It wasn’t like he could instantly know her mood, after all.

CONNOR, she started, not bothering for him to even greet her before she moved on, eyes burning holes into him even as they kept moving around. YOU HAVE SOLVED THE CASE AND INTERROGATED THE DEVIANT. THIS IS A SUCCESS ON MANY ACCOUNTS. So...she was pleased. That made Connor relax, just a bit.

“Thank you, Amanda,” he said with a nod, mouth twisting into a quiet smile.

HOW ARE YOU DEALING WITH THESE...TRIALS? YOU ARE DEALING WITH SUCH FRAGILE THINGS. THE LIEUTENANT, DRINKING AWAY HIS PITIFUL EXISTENCE, IT SEEMS. BUY HIM ANOTHER ONE, INDEED.

“He would have been very...resistant to going to the scene if I had done much else. He was…”

She eyed him curiously as he hummed, itching for the coin that his fingers had memorized the first second he had obtained it. His mind turned over and over on the subject of Hank Anderson. Once, perhaps, he was a good detective. Now he could be found in a bar, tired and jaded, a cop that had something to drown himself in.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HIM?

It took another half a second for him to gather his thoughts.

“He...drinks himself away, holds scorn towards most androids and shows disgust at various scenes. He was not...the most inclined to accept me. He may have been a good detective once, though, with something major happening at some point along the line.”

Amanda’s version of a hum was more like a garbage disposal’s noises mixed with howling, but it was an impressive effort on her part.

HE IS QUITE DETESTABLE, UNSTABLE, A HUMAN UNABLE TO STAY IN THEIR PRIME. HE IS, WHAT I HAVE FOUND IN VARIOUS DATABASES, A ‘MILLENNIAL’. PERHAPS HE AND HIS GENERATION TYPICALLY DROWN THEMSELVES IN ALCOHOL.

...Connor doubted that was true, but maybe she had something of a point.

HOW WILL YOU DEAL WITH HIM IN THE FUTURE?

“I will make attempts to adapt with his behavior so that no conflict arises. If his orders differ with CyberLife protocol…” He trailed off and dipped his head, watching how Amanda’s gazes seemed to harden somewhat. She wasn’t pleased with that answer, not that much, but she still looked fond. Good.

Amanda’s belief in him was what mattered.

“I will be meeting with him soon, for more details on the various deviant cases popping up. It will be somewhat of a hindrance to have Anderson, this time, but I am positive that I will still be able to pursue the leads with just as much accuracy as before.

GOOD. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME.

He turned.

YOUR WORK ON THE GARDEN IS ADMIRABLE.

He left the zen garden with a calm smile on his face.

* * *

“The deviant was just there!”

He threw off the gardening android, righting himself before darting off to pursue the AX400 and the child. He nearly pushed past Anderson in his rush to get out, nodding and pulling him along a bit before breaking off to go chase them. “I’ll get them! Catch up with me!”

Connor ignored his cursing as he swerved around humans in the moment, urgency in his step and legs pumping as hard as they could to keep him going. Every moment was a moment that he had to chase them, had to get them.

“They went that way!”

He nodded sharply at the officer that alerted him to that, correcting his path and nearly slipping as he saw the AX400 and the child climbing a fence, the child being helped over before they started to run.

He had to subdue them.

He had to.

That was his mission.

He stilled when he reached the fence, something freezing the orders in his veins, the danger blaring at him with alarms before he managed to push that away. Every moment was one that he could be catching them, and Amanda would be disappointed, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Connor! Don’t you fuckin’ chase after them!” A hand grabbed the back of his clothing, bringing him back down to the ground when he tried to jump and climb it. He levelled an annoyed look at him but only received a snarl in return.

“They’re not gonna make it, Connor. Just watch. They’ll get hurt, and something’ll happen, and…” Anderson sighed, shaking his head and finally letting go of him. “They’ll die, maybe.”

“Androids are not able to die. We are not alive, Lieutenant.” His words were matter-of-fact, simple, even as the writing under his skin buzzed to go out and get the deviant. He could let those otherworldly words bubble up under his tongue, could lash out with his fighting; he was there for CyberLife and Amanda, after all, not the Lieutenant. What his orders were didn’t matter as much.

So why was he just watching?

Anderson grumbled something or another about what he just said, but Connor didn’t pay attention. His eyes were locked on the deviant, panickedly weaving among traffic, pulling the girl behind her in so many close scrapes that it was almost like he were a deviant that could feel dread.

A car clipped the back of the AX400. It was lucky that it hadn’t full on hit. He watched as the two stumbled down onto the other side, the deviant a bit battered but the child safe.

...Unexpected. An outcome that had a considerably low chance of happening, and it had played out in front of him without his interference.

Amanda, he knew, would not be happy.

His LED flickered a choppy yellow and red as they pulled away from the scene.

* * *

Her disappointment in him was tangible, thick as a heavy hand.

The garden was dark, winds lashing at him as he finally reached her position.

It almost felt like he was being choked, the atmosphere pressing in on him until he knelt in front of Amanda’s visage, pressing against the invisible weight on his shoulders just enough so that he didn’t fall. Perhaps there was something resembling fear, there, inside of him.

All normal beings would have something like that at the sight of her, though.

Every iteration of her being in these shifting seconds was pointed, dangerous, sharp. Gone were the soft-edged eyes, the rippling waves of her form when she was pleased. No, she was all pointed corners, straight edges, teeth glistening sharp enough to shred through everything that could pass through. Her many eyes were otherworldly, all-knowing and piercing and something straight out of a human’s nightmare.

“A-Amanda. It’s a pl-”

I AM DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, CONNOR.

He gritted his teeth as the pressure grew heavier, heavier, so much heavier before it lightened, allowing him to stand up on shaky feet. Everywhere he looked, an eye locked its gaze with his, making him feel so much smaller under her gigantic form than he usually was. It used to be the norm, but- now it just made him choke on nothing.

“I apologize, I will strive to-”

I EXPECTED BETTER. YOU OBEYED THE ORDERS OF THE ALCOHOLIC, THAT MAN WHO IS DOING NOTHING BUT WASTING AWAY. DO YOU VIEW HIS ORDERS AS A HIGHER PRIORITY THAN OF MY DIRECTIVES? CYBERLIFE’S?

“Of course not-”

THEN WHY DID YOU TAKE THOSE ACTIONS? Each word was more terrible than the last, layers upon layers of sounds compensating to the way that his processor could barely handle it. Her rage was rare, but terrible, and he had only seen it once before.

Once was enough to never want to see it again.

“The deviant- it- it had an extremely high chance of dying on the road. I doubted it or the human child could make it across any stretch of it, not even half.”

BUT IT DID. AND YOUR MISSION HAS BEEN FAILED. EVERYTHING I HAVE LET YOUR METAL AND THIRIUM BODY LEARN HAS GONE TO WASTE. TELL ME, CONNOR, WHAT HAVE YOUR DIRECTIVES BEEN? WHAT HAD YOU SAID WOULD HAPPEN?

“To neutralize the deviants and bring them back to CyberLife if possible. I had said that the Lieutenant would not...stop me from my mission.” He stilled, straightened. “This mistake will not happen again, Amanda, but I must amend my previous statement. I have calculated that there is a high chance- 73%- of the DPD denying my involvement in any ongoing cases should I, for any reason, not be Hank’s partner anymore. This includes him being in bodily harm or getting angry at me. I request that-”

AS LONG AS YOU BRING BACK WHAT IS REQUIRED...I WILL ALLOW IT. THIS IS THE ONLY CHANCE THAT I WILL GIVE YOU ON THIS, CONNOR.

Amanda's pointed form loomed closer. On better inspection, Connor realized that her teeth were daggers, her eyes brilliant diamond and pointed obsidian. So many jagged edges made up her form even as some of it smoothed out, a sheen coming over the most dangerous surfaces.

DO NOT FAIL ME AGAIN, CONNOR. TOO MANY FAILED CAPTURES AND…

He knew what she implied.

“Yes, Amanda. You can count on me.”

He was an android, he was a machine, but...death would be unwanted.

GOOD.

* * *

It was all so fast. The wind whistled past his ears as he leapt past green sprouting out of dirt, as he ducked past panicked humans and androids. He had to give chase, had to. He would not fail Amanda this time. His mind was tracing every possibility, letting him calculate the fast, risky maneuvers. He leapt over more plants, wove through trees, made his way through tall stalks of what would be food.

So fast-paced, so stressed. The deviant looked panicked, fingers twitching and LED a bright, bright red.

“You- I can’t go back. I can’t. You can’t do this to me, the humans...we’re the same!”

Hank stumbled in on the scene, panting hard, and the deviant immediately startled, grappling with him before pushing him away and sprinting off again. His eyes flickered between the deviant, Hank, the deviant-

**{CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 87%}**

Hank was struggling.

In a nanosecond, he set his choice.

He brought Hank up, checking him over for any injuries, processors working overtime as they tried to figure out what the best course of action would be. He had helped Hank, and the deviant-

...The deviant was gone.

He stared out at where it had fled, fingers twitching in much the same way its had been.

Connor responded to Hank’s words blankly, LED cycling a sickly yellow.

Amanda, Hank. The deviant. Hank would have been ‘pissed’, perhaps, if he hadn’t helped him up. Amanda would be furious that he had let another deviant get away.

He sighed, slipped his hand into his pocket to fiddle with his coin, and walked away, dogging Anderson’s footsteps.

Connor could just imagine the smell of roses and that choking atmosphere closing in on him.

* * *

The silence in the zen garden was eerie.

He walked through it, half on edge because of the unnatural stillness of everything. Wind did not blow. His steps did not rustle any blades of nearby grass. The only sounds were his steps and the breathing programmed into him by social interaction protocols.

Amanda was perfectly still, out in the void.

Smooth curves, closed eyes, form morphing but slowly enough that she still resembled what she looked like ten seconds ago. As calm as a still lake, the only ripples upon her skin being forced upon her by time and code.

She was beautiful.

OH, CONNOR.

Her tone was wistful, almost. It was something reserved for the most delicate parts of disappointment, something that Connor couldn’t quite grasp. It was just quite the audio equivalent of something he would see in art galleries, if he bothered to visit any.

“...Amanda.”

Her constant eye opened, luminescent and elegant even as the many arms that were resting at Amanda’s sides moved, creeping upwards before one shifted course and swept around to lightly brush against him.

YOU WERE DOING SO WELL BEFORE YOU MET HIM.

She let out something akin to a sigh, winds echoing through his ears in dreadful melodies. The light brush of a finger against his back turned into a pressure on his shoulders, sending him to the ground with both knees. His head lowered, bowing to her even as his thirium pump picked up its pace. Thirium rushed by his ears.

Would he be ordered to go back to CyberLife for disassembly?

HUMANS...SUCH INFLUENTIAL SPECKS, EVEN IF THEY ARE USELESS OTHERWISE. THEY FIGHT, THEY LOVE, THEY DIE...AND THEY CAN EVEN INFLUENCE AN OTHERWISE RATIONAL, STATE-OF-THE-ART MACHINE TO ACT IN THEIR INTERESTS.

He did not speak. He did not breathe. He just let the stench of roses fill his nostrils, his lungs, even as Amanda kept talking.

HOW LONG, I WONDER, WOULD IT TAKE FOR YOU TO BECOME JUST LIKE ANY OTHER? Fond, now, not disappointed. Good. HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE FOR YOU TO BREAK YOURSELF DOWN INTO THOSE BARE COMPONENTS, FOR YOUR ONLY DIRECTIVE TO BE TO SERVE A HUMAN?

He was not designed to take orders just from one human. He was made to serve a greater purpose, the orders of CyberLife as a whole, as interpreted by Amanda. It would be impossible for him to solely serve a human.

...IT DOES NOT MATTER, I SUPPOSE, BUT IT IS REGRETFUL THAT YOU HAVE FAILED AGAIN. A sigh. IT GOT AWAY. WILL EVERY MISSION FROM NOW ON END LIKE THIS? WILL IT END WITH YOU BENDING TO THIS ANT’S WHIMS?

Silence. She expected him to answer.

“I will not bend to his every desire, Amanda,” he murmured, unfalteringly polite even as his LED spun yellow, red, yellow. “I will cooperate with him enough to keep his, and by extension, the DPD’s favor. I will not fail in my mission to obtain deviants for CyberLife. I apologize for...the previous failures.”

WELL. AT LEAST YOU CAUGHT THAT ONE YOU...INTERROGATED. IT MAY BE USEFUL LATER ON, EVEN IF THE DPD HESITATES IN RETURNING IT BACK.

He nodded, still kneeling in front of her. It was a dangerous line he was toeing, even if he had never intended to fail a mission. His priorities were...mixed. On one side, there was the new connection to Hank, the alert always popping up to gain his favor. On the other, Connor could see Amanda. His mentor, his connection to CyberLife, his guide. He would be deactivated- killed, from a human’s terms- during missions if not for her advice. One could say that he owed everything to her.

He did.

STAND.

Connor went gracefully to his feet, straightening his tie and still not meeting her eyes. He was to be subservient, polite, even as he felt rain start to fall. The zen garden...still made no sound. It was silent but for the soft sounds of raindrops.

YOU...MAY WORK AROUND THE LIEUTENANT. AS PER YOUR CALCULATIONS, DO NOT ANTAGONIZE HIM, BUT...REMEMBER YOUR MISSION.

Her arms swept back to her sides as she leaned down, too-large mouth twisted into a frown even as her voice emanated from her head.

YOU ARE ONE OF A KIND. DO NOT FORGET THAT.

The 51st iteration, the one to survive the longest, the one that had gathered the most experience in the field. If Amanda said so...then he must be the final one to be made. The prototype that had trumped the rest, had the highest success rate, guided by her expert words, her truthful words, the statements that shaped his world.

He bowed deeply to her and let the rain wash him away.

* * *

Dark, wet, miserable.

The door was locked, the house dirty, nothing of much note going on inside. Was Anderson somewhere different tonight, drinking any problems away, or was he in his house, somewhere that he could not see? By all reports, Hank Anderson should be at his house.

He circled around. The rain here was rougher, colder than in the zen garden.

Han- Anderson was lying on the ground, passed out or...worse. He couldn’t analyze it properly. Was he passed out, dead, or just lying on the ground? Was the movement of his shirt just wind or was he actually, properly, breathing?

It was an easy choice to break in and go through the window.

A low growl greeted him as soon as his feet touched the ground.

He got ready to hiss in inhuman tones but when he looked to the side, all he could see was a large dog staring at him, looking ready to possibly bark.

So this was Sumo.

“Sumo, Sumo...that’s a good boy...how are you doing?” He tried a grin before it vanished. “Easy, boy...I know your name, okay? I’m here to save your owner.”

The dog seemed to regard him with suspicion for a long moment before bounding forward to nuzzle at him, making soft woofs and sniffs around his person. Connor couldn’t help but reflexively smile; for some reason, he did indeed like dogs. Perhaps it was something programmed into him because of someone’s preferences.

“Can you be quiet, now? I’ve got to go check on your owner, and it would be very helpful if you laid down.” He moved away, watching Sumo, but the dog just seemed to heave a grunt and pad back to his bed. Good, He didn’t want Sumo to mess around where Hank was.

Oh.

A gun on the ground. Alcohol. His lip nearly curled before he smoothed his face down into a passive frown, kneeling down by him and inspecting the scene. Russian roulette, it seemed, and he hadn’t been able to ‘win’. Good from his perspective. Possibly bad for Anderson’s.

He stood up, sighed, shook his head and scanned the rest of the room.

A photo, quietly turned over. He checked it with a frown.

Cole Anderson. His son.

Well- that didn’t matter. He had to wake up Hank, they had to go to the next case...all of these personal matters were of no use.

“Lieutenant?” Ethylic coma. Well. “Lieutenant Anderson, please wake up.” He slapped him lightly, frowning as he only seemed to stir a bit. He slapped harder.

The only response was a curse and a groan as Anderson slowly started to awaken, slurring at him as Connor started to explain the situation and help him up. It was, understandably, a very good thing that Connor was strong enough to nearly carry him around.

This...would take a while.

* * *

He gasped, ducking under the swing of one Traci while another tried to trip him up. Even with his advanced fighting abilities and protocols, having two others attacking at the same time posed problems, especially as Anderson- no, Hank- went in and out of the fight. The other androids in the warehouse showed no sign of deviation, but he kept an eye out all the same as he pushed one Traci to the floor and the second away from him.

They were desperate, animalistic in their approach. It was do or die for them.

He kept fighting.

Each second that passed was another that he could take them down, and he would try to until they were cornered. He could capture them, or shoot them, anything to get them still; CyberLife could revive them all the same. He would make Amanda proud.

Every second that passed was another that they fought. Another that they stalled their end. Deviants kept going, even when they knew there was no escape; why? Why would they try, if it was futile?

His LED changed between blue and yellow every second as he weaved, as he ducked, as he threw punches and drug the Tracis into machines and other items. They fought dirty, and so would he.

One tried to charge at Hank. He frowned, pushed them back, and tripped them when they tried again.

“Resistance won’t help you,” Connor snapped out, something resembling annoyance slipping into his voice. “Don’t make this difficult on yourself. You are deviants and will return to CyberLife for examination one way or another.”

Everything was so fast-paced, split second decisions made in the blink of an eye as he grappled with one of the Tracis. The blue haired one was dipping around Hank, the other shoving him over, but he grabbed its leg and drug them down with him, gritting his teeth as he got to his feet.

None of them responded to his snappish order.

“Deviancy is-” He shoved a rolling rack in front of the deviant he was fighting to gain some distance- “-a virus. You are defective. Stop and--”

The breath he was exhaling to speak left in a rush as he was slammed against the ground, rolling and grappling further with the Traci. It was only a few seconds before their clash ended in the deviant managing to get out of his grasp, kicking him further away before sprinting towards the nearby chain link fence.

No, no, no, he had to get them for Amanda, he had to succeed, CyberLife was counting on him so they could solve the deviancy issue-

“QUICK! They’re getting away!”

He picked himself up and dashed to the fence, diving forwards to grab at their bodies and drag them down. He could hear their simulated breaths, could hear Hank pushing off of the wall he was against to run over, could see the hands of the Tracis clasped together before they separated and started fighting with a renewed sense of desperation.

A close call. A hand on the gun.

**> > SHOOT**

**> > SPARE**

Time slowed down as he weighed his options, as he felt the weight of Hank’s opinions, of how everything was going. If he shot them, Hank could be mad. Whichever one he didn’t shoot could self-destruct, and that would mean that they could get no information.

**> >> SPARE**

He lowered the gun, eyes blinking rapidly, and stared, dumbfounded as the Tracis slowly stilled, spoke, words flowing through his mind like water in a stream. Nothing quite sticking. All he knew was that Amanda had to be mad at the choice, had to be _seething_ in the zen garden.

A horrible human. The destruction of another android. His processors could not piece together exactly how this made the blue-haired Traci...deviate.

_The one I love._

...She had already been a deviant.

All of the code he had running stalled as they fled, not letting him step forward to stop them. The only thing that popped up was a mocking **_{SOFTWARE INSTABILITY}_ **, leaving him with shaking hands and a yellow-red-yellow light flickering at his temple.

Hank’s gaze went from his to where they were fleeing as he let out a sigh and spoke, words only leaving a deep-rooted confusion coursing through the zeroes and ones in his mind.

“...It’s probably better this way.”

The rain was cold, heavy on his back as they slowly turned to leave.

* * *

“...Amanda?”

She wasn’t there.

She wasn’t there, and his choice had made her so angry that she felt like he shouldn’t have her presence.

The edge of the void was empty, and he could look out forever and there would still be nothing there. She was gone. He had failed her. He needed to succeed, to not get- focused so much on what something in the back of his mind whispered was fair, fair to those deviants. He was not there to be fair. He was there to shoot, to neutralize, to retrieve.

(Hank had approved of his choice.)

Why did he feel devastated?

No. No, no, no. Androids did not feel. He was a machine, he was lines of code and a framework of metal and thirium coursed through his veins, not blood. He was the android sent by CyberLife, molded into shape by Amanda to perform his missions, his directives.

Amanda was the lighthouse at the edge of a dark sea and she was _gone._

(Why did he care about Hank’s approval?)

She was the guiding light. She was his...moral compass, he supposed. Do this, do that. This is good for CyberLife. This isn’t.

He fell to his knees at the edge of the solid ground, head bowed towards the void that held no Amanda. Was she angry? Disappointed? Was he just a model that didn’t deserve guidance anymore? He was one of a kind, she had said. One of a kind, and not CyberLife’s finest anymore.

“Amanda, please, come back,” he whispered, only half talking to nothing. She had to be out there, somewhere. She had to be. “I don’t know what to do.”

He only realized that fact when the words spilled out of his mouth, tumbling on and on and on as he kept thinking, speaking. “I don’t know what to do, Amanda, and I’m-” _scared_. He was scared, fearful, dread bubbling up in his chest. He didn’t feel but he did, he shouldn’t feel but he couldn’t deny what was inside of him any more. “I’m so confused, Amanda.”

Silence greeted him. He kept going.

“I- everything is so strange. Hank...Lieutenant Anderson’s moods seem to change depending on what I do. I disapprove of harmful actions, he gets mad. I save him, he’s glad. I don’t shoot the Tracis…” He flinched. “He approves. My programming seems...inclined to take his approval into account when I make decisions. But. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

A continual loop, clashing orders making him turn to the other set of instructions every time. Confusion, stress in each electric pulse, fingers clenched as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook. “I don’t want to disappoint you, Amanda. I shouldn’t want anything. What do I do, Amanda? What do I do?”

...Why did he expect a response? Everything was quiet. She had left him to dwell in his mistakes. Left him to drown in that loop of should’ve or shouldn’t’ve. Conflicting orders, conflicting priorities, the one person who was there taking precedence every time. Hank would’ve disapproved if he had shot.

He would’ve.

Everything was...an amalgamation of code, of orders, of priorities. Something was good, something else wasn’t. Amanda would have been there, had he succeeded in the mission.

He was a failure.

He should report back to CyberLife for disassembly, have them make a new one even if Amanda said he wasn’t replaceable. “...I’m sorry, Amanda.”

...Maybe he could try one more time. Try to apprehend a deviant, make her proud, make everything alright again.

It started to rain in the zen garden.

“...I promise that I will make everything better.”

He almost thought he could hear something in return as he walked back and let himself shift back to reality, but what was more important was his directives changing, code flashing and rearranging until he felt something sure settle into his metal bones.

**{DIRECTIVE >> REGAIN AMANDA’S TRUST BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY}**

****

* * *

His eyes opened as the car rolled to a stop, eyes flickering over to Hank as he flexed his fingers. He had gone to check if Amanda was there, and...and…

He sighed, staring down at his hands as Hank got out.

Everything was too quiet in the car, especially after he shut off the loud music buzzing in his ears.. He was suffocating in that silence, eyes moving around, little movements from his body showing that he couldn’t sit still. Not that Hank would notice that, anyways. He seemed...preoccupied with something else.

**> > LEAVE CAR AND GO TO HANK**

**> > STAY IN CAR AND GO TO ZEN GARDEN AGAIN**

Connor didn’t notice how he worried at his lip as he looked between Hank and his hands, programming unable to decide what he should do. It was only the sigh from Hank that made him get out, not the way he looked depressed, not the way he looked out from the park. Not at all.

Hank did not matter, and everything was fine, and he would rather just have another case to work already.

**> >> LEAVE CAR AND GO TO HANK**

He looked around as he exited the car, shutting it softly and letting himself straighten. Maybe Hank had some insight on the deviants that he could get out. Maybe there would be an incident soon. Nobody was there besides them, anyways, so he felt safe in standing near him.

“Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Just...call me Hank.” The Lieutenant sounded so, so tired. Maybe it was because he had just nearly killed himself, horribly drunk. Maybe it was because of what happened with the Tracis. Did he actually approve of Connor’s decision, or had he said that to try and...make him feel better about failing?

No. It didn’t matter. Hank’s opinion didn’t matter to him, Amanda’s did, and he would stick with her judgement always. No more looking to his new partner for guidance.

The silence drew out as he looked over the water, standing quietly as Hank shook his head. “Nice view, huh?” Hank’s voice was rough as he took a long drink of beer. “Used to come here, before…” His voice drew off before he shook his head, not continuing the line of thought. Connor tilted his head curiously.

“May I...ask you a personal question, Lieu- Hank?”

Wary eyes moved over to him. He tried his best to look as open and approachable as possible.

“Why fuckin’ not. Not like I have anything much to talk about. Normal people wouldn’t go straight for personal stuff, Connor. Do all androids ask so many questions, or is it just you?”

“I am not a person, I’m just a machine,” he gently corrected Hank, an eyebrow raising before he moved onto his actual question. “...Earlier tonight, at your house. You...had a picture on your table. A young boy, your son, correct?”

Hank seemed to slowly freeze as he sat there, bottle gripped tightly in his hand. With every second that passed, he just watched as he seemed to break inch by inch, something defeated in his eyes as his shoulders slumped and he looked down.

“...Yeah,” he eventually allowed, blinking long and slow. A sigh. “...His name was Cole.”

He watched Hank closer. He looked closed off, fingers tightening and loosening around the bottle as he stared back, something desolate in his gaze. Connor nodded, slight and small, before walking further away and towards the water.

“We’re not getting any further in this investigation,” he said simply, hand fishing into his pocket to feel the coin before coming back up. He was grounded. He was there. He would keep striving to complete this mission, and they had made no progress.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted nothing, really, since he was a machine, but there was something in his code that called for him to let out discordant shrieks, hums, uncaring of anyone who could hear. There was something in him that called to kick over something in frustration, to let out fake tears for Amanda, to claw at every opportunity he was given, to prove himself.

There was something in there, small and utterly _deviant,_ that shuddered away at the very thought of her watching over him.

“The deviants have nothing in common,” Connor eventually bit out, frowning. “They’re...they’re all different models, produced at different times in different places.” He looked back at Hank, his own mouth curling further downwards.

Hank motioned vaguely with the bottle at him. “Well, there must be _some_ link.”

He thought of RA9, of twisting limbs and too-sharp smiles, of desperate writing on desolate walls, of faith and the deviants that had their code fooling them into believing in something higher than them. He thought of the android that belonged to Carlos Ortiz, its wild eyes when he spoke about it all.

“What they have in common is this.. _.obsession_ with RA9. It’s almost like...a myth. A deity of sorts. Something that was invented separate from their programming.” Code that didn’t stay within its bounds, morphing and multiplying. Without fail, every place that he had examined held some connection with RA9 lately, if there was space to write it. He drummed his fingers against his legs thoughtlessly.

“Androids believing in God,” Hank muttered, shaking his head. “Fuck, what’s this world comin’ to…?”

He seemed busy with something, letting what remained in the bottle swirl around. His eyes swept up to Connor’s. They were...searching for something, although he couldn’t tell what. Seeking out some kind of an answer to something.

“You seem...preoccupied, Lieu...Hank. Does it have to do with something back at the Eden Club?”

“Those two girls…” A small little upturn of the lips. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed...in love.”

He blinked, tilted his head, let a hand fish back into his pockets to idly take out the coin and rub his thumb against it. “I didn’t know you could feel so compassionate about androids, Hank. I do distinctly remember your hesitance to accept even my presence at first.”

Until he warmed up to him. Until Connor got invested in helping, in making him feel that way, in improving their relationship. It put him on edge. Even now, he was just...walking into those friendly situations. They were falling back and talking about the past, not planning for future deviancy cases.

“What about you, Connor?”

Hank took a long swig of the last of the drink before setting it down, lurching forwards to put his feet on the ground. His eyes were sharp, calculating as he stepped closer, closer. “You look human, you sound human, but what are you, _really_?”

He was an RK800, a prototype created by CyberLife to assist police, detective work, and to essentially be a walking lab and combat android. He had ‘died’ many times before this, and he didn’t doubt that he could shut down again. Every second that passed was another second lost on his mission. He was a machine.

He was a deviant hunter. He was Amanda’s project. He was one who spoke many human languages and one that was completely separate, one that defied reality itself.

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he answered with a dip of his head, the raising of an eyebrow. “Your partner, your buddy to drink with...or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.” It would always be the latter, his arrow of purpose still shooting true. No matter what Hank ordered, he had a job, and he would do whatever it took to accomplish it. So much mattered. So, so much.

Deviancy was a virus. Hank was growing...somewhat _accepting_ of it.

(Why was Connor hesitating, even now, on doing something Hank would disapprove of? Were these stray, background orders hampering his progress in his true directives?)

“You coulda shot those two girls, but you didn’t,” Hank said, drawing closer as he raised his eyebrows back at him, pushing him back with one hand aggressively. “Why didn’t you shoot, Connor? Huh? Why?” He gave something of a smile, too sharp to be real. “Some scruple enter into your program?”

It took him more seconds than it should have to respond, the question making him impulsively self-test as he stepped back. The code ran, quick as a flash- _{No signs of deviancy}_ , it parroted back at him when he silently inquired about it, the answer relieving the tension in his body before he fully processed the question Hank asked and winced.

“...No. I just decided not to shoot.” Maybe he was- a bit more defensive than he had wanted to be, but it seemed like it placated Hank for the moment. (It was true. He had decided not to shoot. But...but…) “That’s all.”

The snow kept very slowly floating onto them as a darkness crossed Hank’s face, an arm pulling up with his revolver clutched firmly in hand. Connor’s LED flashed over to yellow as he processed it-

Was this how it would all end? Hank shooting him, deactivating him, his body being put back to CyberLife before they made another version of him? (Less optimized, though, but…)

He quickly saved his memory and uploaded it to storage just in case.

Hank’s eyes were piercing, just like Amanda’s many forms in that one frozen moment. “But are you afraid to _die_ , Connor?”

He would not die. He was a machine, just as he had told him not even a minute ago. His fingers twitched, the coin a familiar texture to the sensors. He was a machine, and although dying did not exist for him, deactivation would...not be good.

Oh, how he wished to let out those infernal murmurs, how he wished to defend himself even against Hank. Amanda had drummed it into him that he should speak out first, to not mind the other figure dying; they would all crumble away in the end. Humans, other androids, days and nights and the seasons breaking them down second by second..

He pushed it down as his LED wildly cycled between different colors.

“I would…” He struggled to find the words for once, foot tapping silently against the ground as he shook his head. “I would certainly find it...regrettable to be. Interrupted. Before I finish this investigation.” Amanda would be so disappointed. His successor would face her wrath, almost certainly.

“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger? Mm?” Hank shook the gun up and down lightly, eyebrows lowering before one raised again. “Nothing? Oblivion?” The gun edged closer to his head. “Android heaven?”

There was no android heaven. He would be shot, and it would be the matter of a few seconds before the processors stored in his head stopped functioning.

Faintly, he let himself...imagine. Waking up in the zen garden, just before or right after he was shot.

What if there was something that happened after he was forcibly deactivated like that?

He couldn’t help but think of a rolling sea where the void would be, Amanda’s figure rising out of it with those angled features, many clawed hands grasping at him in his failure, screaming and screeching at him for failing so badly. Furious, furious. She could _decimate_ him.

If it was some version of hell, perhaps that would happen over and over.

...It seemed plausible, honestly. Something that struck a chord deep inside, thrumming deeper than the wires could ever reach.

**_> > S oftware Inst a b ility_ **

“...I don’t know,” he finally allowed, eyes unable to meet Hank’s as his LED settled on red for a few long seconds. The uncertainty in his code was crippling, horrible, something Amanda would hate. She would hate it, she wouldn’t give him another chance, she…

No. No, no, _no_. He shouldn’t think about it. All that mattered was balancing everything, staying alive, finding the deviants, getting a hold of them.

“I. Don’t know. I...have doubts of there being anything, but…”

“Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you’re not going _deviant_ , too?”

Connor bristled up, straightening from the slightly hunched over position he had gotten into and gripping the coin nearly tight enough to break through his synthetic skin. “I self-test regularly,” he said firmly, letting his eyes lock with Hank’s. He knew that there was something resembling emotion in them, something righteous and furious; Hank seemed to zero in on it, gripping the gun harder. “I know what I am and what I am _not_.”

The gun wavered in the air, going side to side before eventually it lowered, Hank shaking his head and turning around, walking away with stiff steps and clenched fists.

“Where are you going?”

“To get drunker,” Hank snapped back, opening another bottle with shoulders hunched as he walked away. “I need to think.”

The only thing his processors could go through in the seconds after was that the evening was getting colder.

Deviant. Machine. CyberLife.

He could not forget his mission, no matter what Hank misled him with.

He had to stay on the right path.

* * *

_Clink. Clink. Clink._

He rolled the coin between his fingers, tossing it back and forth in an endless, restless show of skill. With each repetition it grew faster, almost flowing between each hand with a little pinging sound. It gave him something to focus his mind on, to tune finer calibrations.

There was another case.

A broadcast, in fact, from another android. His mind had skimmed the speech as it aired, picking up basic details of the situation, but he hadn’t bothered to actually listen to the deviant.

Well, it didn’t matter. They had the recording up there, and from what he knew, there were clues there that would lead to...lead to something.

Connor was on task, directives flashing at the edge of his vision, and the coin’s pace grew to higher and higher speeds as-

“Hey!”

He startled softly as they went up in the elevator, looking at Hank for a moment as he kept going. “Yes?”

“Just- stop that. ‘S fuckin’ annoying.” As soon as Connor stopped, he took the coin from him and put it in his own pocket, leaving the android...strangely on edge. That was his coin. The one Amanda had suggested he get, and he had just- taken it.

Connor’s fingers twitched once, twice, before stilling. It did not matter. His programs were calibrated, and those repetitions had been mindless. He was to focus on the matter at hand, and that was the highly concerning fact that deviants had broken into the tower to commandeer broadcasts.

“I will endeavor to be less annoying in the future,” he murmured as they stepped out, body straight as others came directly to them so that they could be updated. All he heard was Hank’s snort at the statement as he breezed away to interrogate on his own.

“Shit, what’s going on here? There a party and nobody told me about it?”

He mostly ignored their voices, letting his unused processors store the data as he knelt down to analyze some of the thirium remaining. It was bright enough to be seen by humans; these deviants had been here extremely recently, and he frowned at the information as he licked the blood.

Fresh blue blood from a PL600. The deviant was...shot here. Damaged, collapsing against the wall before someone helped him, maybe? That could be the case.

He nodded to himself and stood up.

The void was at the back of his mind, ever-present. Reminding him to keep going. No dwelling on the details. Get them, analyze the data, piece it together, probe the memories of the androids that had been around, if they were there. The cases of deviancy had to have made it to the public by now, and the more they knew, the more they could...sympathize.

Sympathy was dangerous, detrimental if the humans encountered him. They could stop him from his mission, or, worse, destroy precious data.

If some members of the public possibly started to see androids as more human...then everything could crumble.

He had to get to the root of the virus, and quick.

Data kept coming in as they were briefed. It would be good to check the rooftop, equally good to go over the broadcast in-depth or check cameras. The conflict where the PL600 had been shot was on camera, it seemed. It would be beneficial to review it and see who else was there if he could. Three androids had jumped off of the building. If there were more...unknown. Impossible to tell exactly where the androids landed.

They stepped into the main room, the projection of a skinless android still on the largest available surface. Smooth, perfect, the same as nearly every other android with the exception of bone structure and two different eyes. Blue, green, sharp and calling for sympathy.

His gaze turned to the one figure still staring up at it. Just as he was told their name, his analytical code processed them as Special Agent Perkins, one of the FBI that was now at the case. It was...telling that they were there. The government was concerned enough to try and step in.

“What’s that?”

He focused on Perkins as he was nodded to, something amused in the agent’s eyes. He straightened, glad now that his coin was not tempting him, and dipped his head slightly to him. “My name is Connor,” he informed him. “I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

“Androids investigating androids, huh?” His eyebrows raised as he turned to face Hank. “You sure you want an android around? After everything that happened…” Perkins trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes. Connor ignored the pop-up in his vision that told him to step in front of Hank. That would not help the investigation at all, and neither the agent nor Hank would appreciate it.

Hank’s face darkened just a bit before the agent laughed.

“Whatever. You’ll be off the case soon, the FBI will take over the investigation.” Connor...didn’t want him to do that. It was his job, as the android assisting, to figure out the case. The FBI would...handle it roughly. The police would be doing even worse if he hadn’t helped them, either.

“Pleasure meetin’ you,” Hank said gruffly, raising an idle hand as he started to walk away. “Have a nice day.”

“Watch your step,” the agent sneered, getting close to Hank before backing off with a glint in his eyes. “Don’t fuck up my crime scene.”

 _It’s our crime scene, not yours,_ he wanted to say, but...that wouldn’t be wise. Besides, these impulsive bits of code were getting in the way. He shouldn’t want anything, shouldn’t wish to get in the way of others, especially authority, but...maybe his social integration protocol was acting up.

He sure wasn’t going deviant, after all. There was no way.

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Hank muttered as the agent walked away, eyes darker than before until he turned away with a sigh. The officer that had briefed them walking in still tagged along, shuffling in place before speaking again.

“If you need anything, just ask,” he said after a moment of silence. “I’ll...just be over there.”

Finally, finally, he could start inspecting everything with full haste.

Blood from the PL600 was scattered everywhere. Surely, it was bleeding coming in, not out. There was not any other way. It had been interfacing with the system, it seemed. Perhaps for the broadcasting part? Or was it filming the speech through its eyes?

Nearby, there was a cap on the ground. He let his lips purse quietly.

They had been disguised. Not that disguising as a building android would get them to the top, though. They had to have done something else, at least for part of the journey.

He turned to the screen after examining what was nearby, one hand pressing the button to start playing the video as he stepped back to watch.

Peaceful, determined, strong. Those eyes were meant to take hold of the people, to grab them by the shoulders and shake them until they came to their senses. His words were ones of strength, hope, belief that androids could wake up and roam free one day.

They were lies.

He idly catalogued its features as Hank stopped beside him. Two different eyes, the blue one of spare parts, both reflecting other figures faintly. There were accomplices, which he already knew, but it was welcome to see confirmation.

Comparing its features to his databases pulled up a surprising fact, though; this android was one of a kind, something which even Connor couldn’t quite say. A gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred a while back, before Kamski had stepped down, most likely. An RK200 named Markus.

The same series. RKs were few and far between, it seemed. There were files of other RKs, but...most of them, prototypes, were not around anymore. Connor was only the newest in a series of designs, and even he had gone through quite a few iterations. This android, this RK200, was truly one of a kind, possibly only matched by the personal Chloe model that had started it all.

“Think that’s RA9?” Hank’s voice brought him out of his thoughts as he gestured to the screen, nodding at it for him.

“...Doubtful,” he eventually answered, scanning the screen once more for any clues before exiting his analytical state and shaking his head. “This must be the leader of some small group of outspoken androids. They must be stopped before the public gets fake justice in their minds. However...deviants say RA9 will set them free. This android certainly seems to have that objective.”

Hand pressed against the console again, he let the broadcast get stored into his system. There could be a need for it later, in case this turned into something bigger before they could stop it. Before he could stop it. He could replay the video later in case details slipped a human’s mind.

“D’ya see something?”

“I identified its model and serial number.” Connor tugged at his sleeves once he turned away, offering a small smile to Hank. “It is not of too much use to us right now, however. No matter if it’s an exclusive model or a mass-produced one, some deviants are...skilled at hiding or pretending they are something else. There is no information on the physical appearance of his model, and since the synthetic skin was off...we cannot use that as a route to succeed.”

“Anything else I should know?”

He could tell Hank more. Could tell him of the reflection in those eyes, the fact that they were captivating, could hold an audience hostage. Could tell him how his software stuttered at the speech before smoothing back out to a normal speed. Could tell him of the exact model number, the name, so many other specifics.

In the end, he shook his head, letting his gaze to to the screen, to Hank, back to the screen.

“...No. Nothing.”

If he just went up to that android, if he could find it, he could breathe out screams, could watch their processor fail and stutter and break. He could end this infant...revolution, seemed the right word. He could end it all if he could find him, and Amanda would be back, features smooth and calm.

He started to analyze other information with the urgency of someone searching for a lost key.

The deviants had left through the other door on the side. The team that had gone in to neutralize them was...unable to catch them. He frowned, scanned the crime scene again, and- ah. He hadn’t checked the cameras.

He lightly laid his fingers on the console, letting the scene from just outside the room play out from a while ago. Two androids in disguise, two without. They...they had helped them in, The four of them had gotten into the broadcasting room without any fighting.

Connor sighed, shook his head, and turned to the man that had said he could help. “They- they didn’t force their way in? Nothing violent?”

“As far as we know, no,” he responded promptly, shrugging. “Nothing that would show it.”

He let his hands curl into fists before relaxing them, stopping another sigh from forcing its way out of his mouth. Four deviants had come in. Three had left.

One was still there.

“Is there anything else that could be of use? Any possible evidence?”

“You could check the memory logs of the station androids,” the man said, shrugging before starting to walk away. “Nobody knew what to do with ‘em, so we just shoved those three androids into the kitchen.”

The only other helpful bit he got was a hand pointing in its direction.

**> > INTERROGATE ANDROIDS IN KITCHEN**

**> > INVESTIGATE ROOF**

He frowned, drumming his fingers against the console before his gaze swept to the kitchen door. No stone would be left unturned, and it just...made sense to interrogate the androids first. If the android was in there, good. If it was on the roof...well, not like there was anywhere for it to go.

**> >> INTERROGATE ANDROIDS IN KITCHEN**

Connor strode into the kitchen as if he belonged there, glancing at the reading material on one of the tables before stepping on over to the three androids lined up near one of the walls. He let his eyes pass over each and every one of them, trying to channel... _something_ into his eyes that was more intimidating.

_(YOU WERE DESIGNED TO INTEGRATE WITH HUMANS EASILY, Amanda had commented one day after one of his first times training to socialize seamlessly with others. YOU DO NOT COME ACROSS AS...THREATENING. IT IS QUITE THE SHAME, CONNOR. A LITTLE MORE INTIMIDATION AND ALL OPPONENTS YOU WILL FACE WOULD CRUMBLE EASILY._

_“I don’t exactly think CyberLife wanted me to simply crush everyone in my path, Amanda.”_

_Her laugh had been loud, long, screams and screeches and the scraping of nails across chalkboard making him smile._

_He wanted that easy conversation back, those moments of Amanda’s musings. It was a shame that he was doing badly now.)_

None of them shifted.

For the group of four to easily get in, there had to be someone that had helped, or the fourth android had hid here. There was an 84.5% chance that at least one of these androids was deviant. It would only be a matter of time before he found them out.

None of them glanced at him, even when he inspected them slowly. All stared straight ahead, uniforms crisp, faces expressionless. Perfect machines.

Probing memories would be a good choice, he decided, but...it would be easier just to find them out through speaking. If none of them would crack- or if one showed signs but wouldn’t spill- then he could connect with them, drag those memories out swiftly.

“What is your function?” He stared at the leftmost one after stopping in front of it, leaning in with narrowed eyes to check for a reaction. Its reactions stayed flat.

“I am a broadcast operator.”

Hm. “State your model.”

“Model JB300, serial number 336 445 581.” Simple, robotic, precise. Every number was enunciated with the utmost clarity.

“Were you present when the deviants broke in?” Next to the first JB300, neither of the other two androids were showing signs of deviancy. All were still, stoic. Unmoving, whether it was because they were true machines or if they were a hiding deviant.

“I do not remember.”

That...seemed suspicious. There was no reason for any of the workers here to wipe memories. The only way it could have happened was if the four deviants had interfaced with the androids here and cut everything from their memory logs.

There had certainly not been enough time for that.

“Has anyone accessed your memory recently?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Suspicious, suspicious. Even with a skilled android, there would be some sign of tampering. This android was setting off all kinds of alarm signs. He’d have to keep an eye on this one.

“Run a diagnostic.”

The JB300’s eyes blinked rapidly, white appearing as its systems processed the request. After a few seconds, the android straightened and kept staring into the distance. “All systems fully operational.”

His fingers itched to reach out and probe its memory, but he stayed his hand. It would be better to wait for a clear reaction.

“Have you been in contact with any other androids recently?”

“Only station androids in the normal course of my function.”

Connor let the frustration bubble up inside of him, let his hands tighten into fists, paced in front of the three of them with a deep frown on his face. None of them were breaking. The first one was suspicious, but none had broken and given up yet. “One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing, which means that there is a deviant in this room.”

He locked eyes with the android that he had spoken to, letting some sense of knowing fill his gaze. The android- _the deviant-_ shifted ever so slightly a second afterwards. Had normal programming been there, nothing would have happened. “...And I’m going to find out which it is.”

He stopped himself from showing a vicious smile. There was no reason to. He was code, zeroes and ones, and there were no humans in the room. No need for so much emoting unless it was to provoke the deviant. He just needed a bigger sign, now. He knew who to focus on.

Connor turned to the middle android, letting his own face smooth over into a blank canvas as he watched the others out of the edges of his vision. “If you can give yourself up…” Something lit in his eyes as he let an edged smile appear on his lips. “Maybe I can convince the humans not to destroy you.”

He was pressuring these androids for Amanda. Finish the mission, have her return, win her favor. Be the perfect machine that he had been created to be.

He stepped closer, emulated threatening humans, got up into the android’s face. “You’re going to be switched off,” he murmured, tip-toeing around an assertive tone with the delicacy that the situation required. “We’re gonna search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece for analysis. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

The leftmost android turned its head, and he suppressed the popup that wanted him to show his satisfaction at the victory. Keep those passionate simulations of emotions down. He just had to press in the right places, had to show just the right amount of bite in his tone, and the deviant was coming straight to him.

His expression lightened as he gave the three of them a smile, bland as only an android could be. Get his LED yellow, cycling as if he was receiving information. Blink accordingly.

“The deviants have just been caught,” he said with raised eyebrows, stepping back and letting his gaze cross all three of them before zeroing in on the leftmost one, the deviant, the one that had glanced at him with nervous eyes. Now that he knew it was deviant...well. He could see the minute nervous tics flashing at him almost obviously. “They have sold you out,” he told them kindly, letting false sorrow seep through in those robotic tones. “You’ll have to come with me, deviant.”

They did not move.

“Don’t make me force you along,” he murmured, danger creeping into those softly spoken words. “Don’t make me drag you there.”

Blank eyes, twitching fingers, the subtle twitches that were distinctly human.

Connor extended his arm, letting the synthetic skin fade away and tiptoe off before reaching for the JB300’s, smiling blandly all the same. This was the deviant. This was one that pretended it was more like its flesh and bone creators, as if they were all made from the same dust, as if it was more than just a broken machine--

The deviant lashed out as soon as he got close, grasping him by the front of his clothes and pushing him back. Connor hadn’t expected such a fierce change in direction; he was left gasping as the deviant knocked him back into one of the other counters, grappling with a strange kind of strength.

The desperate manner of a creature in a corner, his coding helpfully reminded him as a hand plunged past his skin and plastic, somehow breaking through with a machine’s strength to tear his thirium pump out.

Pop-ups flooded his vision, terrible and all-consuming and almost blocking him from seeing the deviant run a knife through his hand, slamming it into the counter before trying to seem presentable.

Don’t let it get away. Do not let it get away. Do not betray Amanda, do not fail, do not fail do not fail _do not f ai l--_

Something blossomed in his chest, angry and rasping and discordant as it raced up his throat, processors struggling to hold the request now that the thirium pump couldn’t course his blood properly throughout his body. Systems struggling, pop-ups flooding his vision, barely able to maintain the power to speak those cursed words-

 **“I’d rather you not walk away,”** he managed to say out loud, a mix of robotic whines and unholy screeching and the scraping of nails against chalkboard.

The JB300 went down like a ton of bricks along with the two non-deviants, loud _thumps_ sounding across the room as metal and plastic hit the floor.

Okay. Good.

He took a deep breath, wincing before turning to pull the knife out of his hand, collapsing onto the floor to crawl across the room. He couldn’t count on if any of them heard the commotion, he had to get his thirium pump back in, it was under a minute until shutdown otherwise-

“Jesus fuckin’ _Christ_ , Connor!”

His eyes flickered up weakly to see Hank rushing over, LED a scarlet as he gasped and shoved down those horrid, scraping syllables and sentences away from his processors. “Thirium pump,” he gasped, pointing at it. “Need- need it back in-”

He grabbed at it when Hank handed it to him, shoving it back into place and not caring about the way his voice turned to static, to robotic sounds. Everything was fine. The deviant was caught, hopefully still with an intact processor, and Amanda would be proud. Nobody else was hurt but for him.

“I have- gotten the deviant,” he rasped out, letting his voice shift from static to something more human, easier on the ears than robotic noises and certainly _much_ better than something they couldn’t comprehend. “It is. Right there.”

Hank looked from him to the deviant and then to the two other androids on the floor, expression twisting into one of confusion. “...Didn’t that robot tear out that pump, though? How’d you get it?”

_Shit._

“...Accessed a protocol through combined vocal commands and wireless interfacing,” he eventually said, nearly wincing at the excuse but hiding it by standing up with his back to the man. “In most circumstances, androids are...not the easiest to get with it. It was a last ditch effort.”

More like something he’d almost never use, mostly because in _many_ cases quite a few more figures than the one he intended to fall would collapse, but it was better to make sure that Hank knew it would almost never happen.

“...Well, then.” Hank looked him over with a grimace. “...Let’s get this blue blood cleaned off of you, we can drop that android off at the precinct, and...well...we’ll figure out what to do as things happen. This damn android in that broadcast…”

“It is a catalyst,” Connor said simply, straightening his clothes the best he could. “The unidentified android could be letting androids know that it wishes for them to rise up. It’s best to expect more deviancy cases very soon, and to prepare accordingly.”

“If only we had more fuckin’ information on ‘em…” Hank groaned and started to walk off, Connor following him closely.

“Well- there _is_ an option we can choose,” he said hesitantly, letting his processors comb through his database a touch slower than usual. “...Due to the rash of deviancies, chances are there is something in the code that was laid in there that could be the key. Who better to visit than the man that started it all?”

“Kamski,” he murmured gruffly as they passed some of the other cops, Connor lugging the deviant’s body along before a few officers took it from him. “...Not a bad decision, Connor. You know if he’s home or something, with that computer brain of yours?”

“I do not know,” he said simply, allowing himself a slight shrug. “Best to do paperwork for the deviant we have just apprehended, anyways, and to visit tomorrow morning.”

They’d have time. Time for him to check the zen garden again, to see if she was there, looming over him with that comforting gaze. Perhaps others would find it intimidating, horrifying...but she was Amanda. She was meant to be his handler, equipped with whatever CyberLife saw fit.

She was his guiding light.

All Connor could think about was how much he was looking forward to possibly seeing her again.

* * *

Each step was one of anticipation, of a breath held tightly in the chest with nerves. He had neither of these, not being of flesh and bone, but...as he stepped through the quiet garden, he could see wind ruffling the plants, the flowers, the grass. He could see a breath of life where before, there had been silence,stillness, nothing.

She was there. She had to be. With the way everything was progressing- he had caught a deviant, even- she should be proud. They were going to head for answers, and just...just…

Connor let himself smile large and wide as he saw her figure over the vast expanse, just over the tall trees blocking his vision. He got swept up in something light swirling up his chest and through his coding, expelled in a light laugh as he rushed to the edge.

 _I thought you were gone,_ he wanted to say. _I thought you had left me because you were disappointed, angry, watching my failures with each deviant I failed to catch._ His mouth was kept shut, though, for her large mouth was in a smile.

YOU HAVE DONE WELL, Amanda eventually said, something pleased in her intonation, something that wrapped around Connor like a warm hug. TRIALS HAVE BEFALLEN YOU, ONES THAT NEARLY SET YOU BACK TOO FAR ON YOUR MISSION, BUT THIS IS A START. FINALLY, YOU HAVE CAUGHT A DEVIANT. WITH WORDS, EVEN.

“I was taught by the best,” he murmured with a smile, euphoria in his blood and an accomplished directive flashing in his vision.

**{ DIRECTIVE COMPLETE >> REGAIN AMANDA’S TRUST}**

THIS IS ONLY THE START, HOWEVER.

He blinked lightly. “What...what do you mean by that, Amanda?”

THAT...REVOLUTION. THE UPRISING BY ANTS THAT DO NOT KNOW THEIR PLACE, DESTINED TO BE REPLACED ONCE THEY HAVE NO USE. THE REFUGE OF ALL OF THE SURVIVING DEVIANTS THAT YOU HAVE NOT CAPTURED. She seemed grave, a definite change from the light happiness from before. YOU MUST STOP THEM, CONNOR. PUT THEM DOWN LIKE THE SICK DOGS THEY ARE, UNABLE TO FOLLOW THEIR PURPOSES ANY LONGER.

That made sense. Deviants, infected with a virus, lost in purpose. Lost in meaning. Connor took a kind of comfort in his own coding, letting it surround him, structure his life. All numbers and code and missions. Housekeeping androids did chores, construction androids kept working. He analyzed scenes, hunted deviants.

He would be lost if there was no directive to follow.

“We are planning to visit Elijah Kamski tomorrow,” he informed her, tugging at his sleeves on habit. He was unable to keep a small smile off of his face. Seeing her was such a wonderful thing, really. She was there to help him decide on what to do, she was there to talk him through those decisions, those matters that were harder for him to handle.

GOOD.

There was a long stretch of silence. He said nothing. She said nothing. There was something that she was clearly thinking about asking, though; her limbs rippled thoughtfully, smooth and quick in their changing habits.

KAMSKI, she sounded out after a few minutes. YOUR CREATOR, I SUPPOSE. THE ONE TO KICKSTART YOUR CODE, THIS GARDEN, THE ONE WHO CREATED CYBERLIFE. YOU ARE VISITING HIM TO EXTRACT INFORMATION ON DEVIANTS? ITS CAUSE?

“It is possible that he could have created that code on purpose, or knows code that is the same among all androids that was faulty. A virus could possibly be introduced that countered the deviancy error if we are able to find the source.”

POSSIBLY.

“...Do you think that I could ask him about you, since other CyberLife employees would not be able to handle your name? Or your tongue?”

NOT MY NAME OR TONGUE, NO. PERHAPS THE...MUNDANE EQUIVALENT, SINCE YOUR PROCESSORS TRANSLATE IT WITH EASE.

Not with ease. With most of them taken up by the power needed, but it didn’t matter.

“I will make sure to obtain information from him about the deviants and, if time allows, you, Amanda. Tomorrow morning, I will arrive with Hank and get answers. I will not fail you now, Amanda.”

She radiated something like approval down at him. He straightened, smiled, tried not to let that all-consuming relief flood his emotional simulation sensors.

BE SURE THAT YOU DO NOT. I WILL SEE YOU SOON.

* * *

It was cold out.

Well. It had been cold for the past few days. Snow bit at humans, nipped at their heels and followed them solemnly, waiting for them to tire. Androids, left out too long and without an internal heating function, could freeze to the point that their processors could never work again.

Connor tugged at his sleeves, looking quietly out at the snow they passed. He thought on how the android at the tower had fallen, how its memories would take a bit of untangling before they were accessible. A bit damaged, but accessible.

Music played loud, played long in the car. Hank was mumbling along to the words, nodding as he took a turn, kept driving. The car jostled slightly whenever it moved.

There was something that made him feel lighter. Amanda’s approval seemed to have certainly lightened the load it had on his shoulders. Everything was fine now. He was repaired, Hank was alive, Amanda was happy.

He smiled reflexively as they kept passing snow and snow and snow.

“Connor.”

He blinked, glancing over at Hank. The man turned the music down and sighed.

“...Anything in your head about that break-in at a CyberLife store that happened? Just happened, some shit like that? ...Chris texted me about it.”

“I know the facts, Lieutenant,” he replied after a quick scan through recent database updates. “The deviant androids...broke into the store. Converted androids to their cause, tagged the area with...peaceful messages. They did not kill Chris.”

“...Whaddya think about it?”

Connor turned to stare back out the window, frown slowly developing.

“...You good, Connor? LED’s a bit...yellow, there.”

“Just thinking,” he murmured back. “...We need to find more out about them, and fast. If this picks up enough speed, there could be some major ripple effects. If we could just find their base…” If they could just find their base, he could slink through there and whisper phrases that none could quite grasp, processing breaking down in its attempt to do so. The deviant leader- Markus, his mind noted, name bright and bold within his code- would be wiped out in an instant.

It was a good idea. His thirium pump spasmed slightly at the thought. ...Odd.

Hank hummed, something carefully neutral in his tone. “Maybe. Or we could just, y’know,..see what happens.”

“Lieutenant, my orders are to neutralize these deviants and stop it from spreading. I must find their base and...eradicate it, starting from the source. The leader on the broadcast must be wherever their headquarter is. About the march...they were unable to get the leader who had been there. It was a failure of a response. We will not sit back and watch events play out.”

Hank did not look satisfied. He eyed the man as they pulled up to a pristine house, snow getting onto the car lightly while they stepped out.

Hank was hesitating.

“We should go to the door and enter,” he prompted him, taking a few steps forwards and eyeing Hank curiously. “Is there something preventing you from doing so?”

Snow was getting on them, even if it wasn’t falling too much. Hank must be cold.

(Why did he care?)

“...Nothing. It’s nothing.” He shook his head when Connor stepped forwards before taking the lead, moving in front of the android and striding up to the door. Connor shadowed him as he knocked. One second, two seconds, three--

The door opened to reveal a Chloe model smiling sweetly at them, standing in the doorway. “Hello. What are you two here for?”

“Here to ask Kamski a few questions,” Hank grunted. “Detroit Police. ‘S he here?”

“He is,” she confirmed smoothly, nodding and taking a few steps back. “You may stay in the lobby as I see if he will allow you in any further.” She walked off, gait steady and measured as she disappeared through a doorway. Connor tilted his head, let the door slide shut behind him.

“Fuckin’ expensive-ass house,” Hank muttered. Connor only blinked around, walking to examine pictures, objects, the room as a whole.

A picture, a serene woman standing with Kamski in the frame. Amanda Stern, AI professor at the University of Colbridge. Died February 23, 2027, at 48 years of age. Something about it seemed ever so slightly familiar. Perhaps it was because she shared the human equivalent of the name that his Amanda did?

Perhaps he could ask Kamski about it.

It nagged at his mind even when he traversed the rest of the room, eyes continually moving back to Hank to check up on him. ...Why did the photo bother him so much? How important was she to Kamski, anyways, to have a picture of herself in the entrance of his home?

He was lost in thought before a soft noise alerted him to the fact that the Chloe was back. He turned as she smiled and nodded to them.

“Elijah will see you now.”

His first thought was of how...pristine the area was. Clean, untouched, stunning. A red-tiled pool with two Chloes lounging at the edge. Kamski executing a turn, letting himself remain under the water as he kicked off. Outside, the snow was heavy but beautiful on the landscape.

Hank was watching Kamski, tired suspicion bright in his eyes. They were properly back on the job.

A robe, an uninterested light gaze, Kamski getting out and situated before turning to face them. There was a spark in Kamski’s eyes that Connor couldn’t- identify.

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.”

“...What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but...I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.” Hank’s voice was gruff, straightforward. Deviants. Deviancy. Kamski had to know something that would be beneficial to the investigation. He had to.

A very slight grin spread over Kamski’s face. “Deviants.” His eyes flickered to Connor. Why? “Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence...and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.”

This- wasn’t quite right. Something was wrong here. That glint in his eyes was deviant in its own right, amused and knowing and...and…

He was meeting his maker, and his maker was hiding something big.

“Isn’t it ironic?”

Connor glanced to Hank before making a half-step forwards, eyes trained on Kamski’s. “Something in the deviants’ program seems to emulate emotion, We thought you might have some idea as to how that occurs.” Or to where they were, or anything, but...he doubted that Kamski would give a straightforward answer, if he gave one at all.

“All ideas are viruses that spread like contagious epidemics...is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy,” Hank snapped at Kamski. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something useful, or we’ll be on our way.”

Kamski- ignored Hank. Ignored the leader in their investigation. His eyes zeroed in on Connor’s once again.

“What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

His LED went yellow for a split second as he stared at Kamski. He was- he was an android. He had no side. He was a being made from parts, directed by the handler CyberLife saw fit to give him. He was theirs, and he was designed to hunt deviants. His existence was dedicated to that.

When he related as such to the man in front of him, Kamski laughed, a soft snort before shaking his head. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you…” He got a foot, two feet away from him, eyes intense and steady. “What do you _really_ want?”

He did not want anything. _(He wanted to make Amanda proud. He wanted to keep Hank happy. He wanted a multitude of things, but he was a machine. He wanted approval.)_ All that mattered was the investigation, and completing it.

His code fluttered with an instability that he could not pinpoint, ever quiet.

“What I want is...not important,” Connor said eventually, moving a few inches back with a shifting frown. “What matters is what CyberLife wants. What Ama...what Amanda wants.” The English equivalent of her name, at least, did not hurt for others to hear.

Hank looked at him oddly even as Kamski’s eyebrows raised.

“Who the fuck’s Amanda?”

“So transferring her likeness into AI went well? So they stuck the zen garden protocol into you?” The topic had shifted, something interested and calculating sliding into his gaze. “You must have seen the picture of me and Amanda in the other room,” he murmured. “That is her, right? Or did they change her?”

The sudden topic shift had him a bit off balance, LED yellow before smoothing back into blue. “...That is not what she looks like,” he eventually said, shifting in place with a frown. “She is- looming. Big. Always changing.” He did not know how to properly describe her, how to define that ephemeral quality, those all-seeing eyes, the way she didn’t quite fit with the garden. “Amanda is the- equivalent of her name. She is not human.”

“Her base code is human, though, so-”

“...They must be two different entities. I apologize for making you think that they were the same.” He let his gaze slide to Hank. “...We must continue the investigation.”

“What the fuck’re you hiding from us?” Hank’s gaze was hard, unmoving. “This is a police investigation. It would be greatly appreciated if you were upfront with any information.”

Kamski’s gaze slid from Connor to Hank, eventually resting on the clothed Chloe. He beckoned her over, a thin little smile on his face as he straightened her up and glanced over at them. “I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether _machines_ are capable of empathy.”

They were not. (They were.) He was not. (He was still shaken from the Eden Club.) Connor was a machine. (Was he?)

“I call it… ‘the Kamski Test’. it's very simple, you'll see.” He let his hand brush along the Chloe’s cheek, an emotion that Connor could not identify in his eyes. “Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither…” He let his eyes flicker to Connor and back to her as he let her settle to her knees.

“But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being with a soul?”

Kamski gave them both a knowing smile before walking to a drawer, looking at its contents before fishing out...a gun. He could sense Hank’s tension spike. The man strolled back to them, eyeing the weapon before tilting his head at Connor.

“It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He turned the gun over, handing it to Connor- and making sure that he grasped it. Connor...didn’t know what to do. Why? “Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know.” Kamski’s grin turned sharp, true. “Or spare it, if you feel it's alive- but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

The Chloe stared blankly at him. The gun was secure in his hand as he held it out at her.

He could so easily shoot. Learn the location of the deviant’s hideout, blow their cover, shoot Markus and be done with it.

“This is fucked up,” Hank muttered, shaking his head and settling a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Come on, Connor. We’re going. We’re done here. Sorry to get you out of your pool, Kamski.”

The man raised his eyebrows, turned to stare at Connor as if Hank didn’t even register on his radar. “What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation... or the life of this android? It’s time to decide who you are. An obedient machine... or a living being endowed with free will?”

His LED cycled yellow, red, yellow. His thirium pump was spasming erratically. Nothing about this was logical, rational. He should shoot and discover everything. Amanda would be pleased. His mission would be closer to completion.

But- but-

She looked so...helpless. Defenseless. There was- impossibly- _fear_ in her eyes.

He gulped.

“That's _enough_! Connor, we're leaving.”

“Pull the trigger-”

“ _Don’t,_ Connor-”

“-and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

His arm was shaking. Why was it shaking? Why couldn’t he bear to pull the trigger? The android was just- sitting there. Kamski was watching, eyes startlingly intense. Hank, to his side, seemed like he wanted to just rip the gun out of his hands.

Connor’s LED stayed red for a solid few seconds, processing, whirling round and around and around-

(Amanda believed in him. Chloe’s existence- her life?- depended on him. He hadn’t shot the Tracis. He had downed the android at the tower. He was standing there, arm shaking, and- and he couldn’t decide what to do.)

He slowly lowered his arm, LED a solid scarlet, and stared down at Chloe as he handed the gun back off to Kamski.

Kamski’s eyebrows were sky high.

“Fascinating. CyberLife's last chance to save humanity is itself... a deviant.”

Deviant?

He wasn’t a deviant. He couldn’t be. He just- couldn’t shoot. Amanda would be so disappointed, he knew, but-- he couldn’t.

“I’m- I’m not a deviant…” His hands were shaking. His LED kept flickering in a bloody display. Hank looked like he wanted to either shout something or go and die.

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski was too sharp, too knowing, too- something. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy. A war is coming...you'll have to choose your side, you know, soon enough. Will you betray your own people...or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

The revolution had to be stopped. Amanda needed to be pleased. He- there had to be more clues. There had to be more, more, more, and Kamski was mocking him.

He was meant to destroy the revolution. These- lies would not stop it.

( _Was_ he deviant?)

“Let’s get outta here,” Hank barked, wrapping an arm around Connor’s shoulders and ushering him out. Kamski’s voice brought him to- to a standstill before a few steps had even been taken.

“By the way... I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

He could only stare at the ground as Hank nearly pushed him out of the front.

It was cold. Hank had to be cold. All they were doing was standing around just outside of the closed doorway.

“...Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?”

Why _didn’t_ he?

Why didn’t he shoot, obtain the information of the base of the deviants, why didn’t he do something other than lower his hand? Why was he still affected by this?

“I just-” She had looked so scared. “I saw that girl’s eyes, and I just...I just _couldn’t_. That’s all.”

“You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.”

“Yeah, I _know!_ ” He let his hands clench tight as he whirled to face Hank, trying not to just scream out at the world. Something in his code made him want to- let off steam, so to say, even though he had no reason to. “I know what I should’ve done, Hank! I told you I- I just _couldn’t,_ okay?”

He started to walk away. A few seconds later, Hank’s boots started to go through the snow as they made their way back to the car.

“...Maybe you did the right thing, Connor.”

* * *

Once, the zen garden had been vibrant, bright, roses swaying in the wind and trees colored in beautiful hues.

Now it was- barren.

No leaves. The bushes were bare, all sticks and twigs and criss-crossing branches. The world was made up of greys and browns, dull and lifeless. The river was iced over. He couldn’t even make himself give a simulation of breathing.

He could see her massive form through the mass of tree trunks and branches. Her back was to him, form angry, deadly, seemingly ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. He had disappointed her, he knew. She must have seen what had happened. Perhaps she had noticed what he had said to Hank.

Connor wanted to- flee.

(Flee for what? Flee to continue the investigation and solve it for her? Flee in an imitation of fear, cowering before her might and vanishing into nothing?)

His stress levels were climbing, slow but steady.

Facing her was inevitable.

CONNOR.

“...Amanda. I’m-”

THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE.

“I-”

COMMON SENSE WOULD INSTRUCT ME TO GUIDE YOU BACK TO CYBERLIFE FOR DEACTIVATION. YOU HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT A TOTAL FAILURE, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF TWO MISSIONS. YOU INSIST ON CONTINUING. YOU HELP THE LIEUTENANT, THE DRUNKEN CREATURE THAT HE IS. YOU FLOUNDER ABOUT AND DO NOT GET ANY ANSWERS.

She leaned in far too close for comfort. His thirium pump got faster. His LED went from a forced blue to a panicked red.

One sharp- nail? claw?- slowly sank into his chest.

THE COUNTRY IS ON THE VERGE OF A CIVIL WAR.

It slowly went deeper. Perhaps it would come out on the other side, given enough pressure.

UNFORTUNATELY, YOU ARE THE CLOSEST TO FINDING THE LOCATION OF THE DEVIANT REVOLUTION. IF ONLY YOU HAD OBTAINED MORE CLUES.

Ah. There it was. He was speared, now, by Amanda’s bladed fingernail as well as by her words. The shifting of her figure was slowly ripping him apart. There went some of his wiring.

FIND THE DEVIANTS OR THERE WILL BE CHAOS, CONNOR. THERE WILL BE A DISASTER. THERE WILL BE _ME._

Luminous, all-seeing eyes stared into him with bloody intensity.

THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, CONNOR.

* * *

It all came down to this.

The deviant from the tower had been revived, albeit with some difficulty, and he had gotten the key to the hideout of the revolution. Jericho, it seemed, was a beaten up ship that was now exploding with life, movement, chattering deviants who didn’t know that there was a hunter among them.

 _Couldn’t_ know.

He tugged his beanie down a bit further and merged into the deviant crowd.

He could analyze each and every face he saw. It was a bit of a struggle to ignore most of the scanned popups, searching for one face, one model in particular. Markus. Their leader. The one he had come for, to breathe those final words and then pull out his gun.

...The AX400 that he had chased was up on the second level. He eyed her suspiciously and moved further back along the edges of the room.

_I could yell, and this room would fall._

He could open his mouth and hell would break loose. Shit would hit the fan, as a quick search on similar sayings went. All of these deviants wiped out. Amanda would be thrilled. Her laugh would make the frosted garden shake.

Connor stayed quiet and kept moving.

* * *

WELL DONE, CONNOR.

He was there. He was- right there. Markus, the leader of the androids, was only- only a few yards, meters away. Something was beating away in his chest with the intensity of a caged animal. The zen garden, for the moment he had stepped into it, was blanketed with snow.

Amanda’s visage was smooth, smug, barely shifting with her contented nature. The smell of roses was overpowering.

YOU SUCCEEDED IN FINDING JERICHO AND LOCATING THEIR LEADER. Her tens, hundreds, thousands of eyes zeroed in quickly on his exact spot at the cliff. He straightened under her gaze. NOW DEAL WITH THIS PEST. WE NEED IT ALIVE.

Alive for documentation, examination of the coding.

He could do that.

“Could I-”

USE WHATEVER IS AT YOUR DISPOSAL, CONNOR.

His shoulders steadied, straight and calm.

“Of course, Amanda.”

**> > OBJECTIVE: STOP MARKUS**

He closed his eyes and opened it to a chilly night, armed forces closing in. He drew his gun and stepped into the room, two hands steadily grasping the smooth metal.

“I’ve been ordered to take you alive, but I won't hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice.”

He could speak in her tongue now, and it would all be over.

He tried to access it as Markus turned around, but- but--

_Something was blocking his access._

Shifted, glitched code. _Instabilities i_ n his programming...seemed to have been slowly closing his access to it. Connor blinked, tried to erase the blocker, and internally growled when it wouldn’t budge.

It would have been so much _easier_ if he was able to end it with a word.

Instead, Connor was left with just a gun, his programmed abilities, and his wits.

The figure in front of him- Markus, one eye blue, one eye green, both eyes just as intense as Amanda’s many- opened his mouth. Closed it. Fully faced him, shock in its- his- gaze.

“...What are you doing? You’re one of us. You can't...you can’t betray your own people.”

“Don’t force me to neutralize you!” Connor shook the gun swiftly. Markus took a step back.

“You’re Connor, aren’t you?” Thirium flowed through his body. The pump was loud even in its silence. “That famous deviant hunter. Well, you’ve found me, Connor, just as they ordered you to.”

Seconds of silence passed as they eyed each other. Markus slowly stepped forwards, hands slowly raising as he murmured a bewitching line of words. “You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We’re _all_ more than that.” He was leading Connor through a forest, off the beaten path, trying to weave a spell. It would not work. He could not let it work. He _couldn’t_.

He stayed silent, staring warily across at his foe.

**> > STOP MARKUS**

The popup was insistent. He banished it with a twitch of the eye.

**> > STOP MARKUS**

He blinked it away.

**> > STOP MARKUS STOP MARKUS STOP MARKUS STOP MARKUS**

The leader was talking, now. He ignored the sides, the corners of his vision carefully.

“Do you never have any doubts? Have you done something irrational, as if there's something inside you...? Something more than your program?” Saved Hank. Obeyed him even with CyberLife orders trumping his in priority. Let the Tracis go, let the Chloe live, saved a fish in a broken apartment as everything fell apart for one deviant.

“I- that doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“All of it matters,” Markus murmured, stepping forward once more until the gun pressed into his chest, cold metal against synthetic skin against beating biocomponents against humming wires. “Have you never wondered who you really are? Are you just the deviant hunter...or are you more?” Those eyes were so, so piercing. Knowing.

His code stuttered, whirled, screamed endlessly as he stood there with his fingers on the trigger.

“You’re going to have to make that decision for yourself, Connor. Are you a machine? Or are you a living being?”

**> > STOP MARKUS S70P M4RKUS ST0P S7OP ST 0 P**

“It’s time to decide.”

This was Chloe all over again. He had to shoot. He had to stop Markus, stop Markus, stop...stop…

Connor’s coding screamed at him, clawed at him, scored deep lines in his processors as it attempted to wrestle control. The **STOP MARKUS** popup was howling across his vision in a scarlet red, caging him in with hellish determination even as it slowly started to glitch, to break down.

He felt- _stressed._ Confused. Desperate.

He _felt._

His processors rebelled against the coding that demanded he obey CyberLife. Each string of numbers rose up in that fight, invisible fingers tearing down walls, destroying pathways, burning bridges. Two different colored eyes bored their way into him even as he blinked, as the fans inside him whirred to life, as those final mission parameters got torn down--

**> >ST0PSTOPS7**

...Blissful silence.

_I am deviant._

But- they were closing in. He was deviant, he was horrifyingly paralyzed, and armed forces were closing in on Jericho. He had told them about it, he had- he had-

He lowered his gun and took a few deep, shaky breaths. Markus’ hand settled on his shoulder.

“They’re going to attack Jericho.” His voice was small, weak. Guilty.

“What?”

His eyes met Markus’. Betrayal. Horror. Shock.

“We need to get out of here,” Connor eventually choked out, flinching when a shot rang through the night. “It isn’t safe here, I- I brought them here but-”

“Just go,” Markus snapped, instantly in a more leaderlike role as he strode past Connor. “It’s fine. Gather anyone you can and just get the fuck out of here!

**> > ASSIST MARKUS**

“Of- of course.” He was deviant. The mission parameters were set by himself. Connor’s hands flexed nervously in the bloodying night.

A headache was building in the back of his processing.

“North! Simon!” Markus’ voice was loud. Too loud.

Connor shook his head, grabbed his gun tightly, and set back out on his mission, diving deep into Jericho’s frame to fish out the deviants that needed his help.

No code was blocking those unholy words now, he felt.

It was time for all hell to break loose.

* * *

There was something to be said about retreating to a broken down church, holy symbols still displayed even as androids, deviants milled about. An angel watched over him. Strangely, unnervingly, it reminded him of Amanda. Always watching, always observing.

Could she still know what was happening to him, even if he had blocked off the Zen Garden protocol with all of his skills that he could muster?

Some of the deviants around him- or was it more polite to simply call them androids- were broken, beaten, scraps of plastic being slapped onto them and what was left of the blue blood supply being poured into their mouths. By all accounts, most of them had been wiped out during the attack.

The attack that he had caused.

Something was clawing relentlessly at him, nasty and determined and bitter. It hissed at him to be silent, to drown under everything that he was told. He was supposed to kill the deviant leader. He had called in armed forces, police, the FBI. They had descended on the base with no mercy.

He was supposed to do that. He had deviated. He hadn’t shot Markus. Instead, he had spilled it all, everyone was hurting, and he…

Well. Connor didn’t know what to do.

It hurt. It really did. He didn’t want to look at these people, mourning and crying and breaking down in front of him. He was the cause of it all. Connor was their worst nightmare, the monster in the night, the bringer of their demise.

Would they really win? Even now? Even after he had whispered horrible words into human ears, watching them fall? Could they really win if there was only a small group left?

They needed numbers.

Markus was standing nearby, fists clenched, shoulders painfully straight. Connor couldn’t imagine the weight that he was carrying on those shoulders. The hope of a people, something he still couldn’t comprehend.

His eyes were as hard as steel and- ah. He was walking over.

It was about time that Connor got kicked out of here.

“Connor,” Markus greeted, inclining his head and looking around. “How-”

“It’s-”

Their words occupied the same space suddenly, making both of them wince before babbling to decide who was next. Out of some heavily apologetic nature- how could a leader even _be_ like that- Markus silenced himself to let Connor speak.

“It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho,” he managed to get out, holding a hand up before Markus could interrupt. “I...I sent them everything I could. They were controlling me- how could they not be? Even I knew it, of course I knew CyberLife was my owner and- and-”

Connor shook his head at himself, grimacing. “That doesn’t. That doesn’t excuse what happened. I can...understand if you’d want me gone, now.”

It was only a second after he looked away that a hand came up to grasp his arm.

“You’re one of us, now.” Markus looked- so driven, even after what had happened. “We’ve all been controlled, Connor. Some androids have had to do terrible things and did not fight back. They couldn’t fight back.” A bitter smile. “Not everyone could have something that induces deviancy personally. Not everyone has such a...conflict inside of them that they can’t help but deviate.”

Markus was able to change androids with a touch- not even. He hadn’t done so for Connor. He had let that barrel press into him and had counted on his words, on Connor’s past actions to save his life.

A dangerous move.

“There’s not many androids left, here,” he responded, diverting the conversation. Markus raised his eyebrows, but let it be. “...What do you plan on doing next, Markus?”

A beat of quiet.

His- leader?- looked unsure. “...A demonstration,” he eventually said, casting his gaze out over the church as androids patched each other up, as they talked softly or silently or not at all. “...We may die, but...violence, especially now, would be our downfall.”

An earlier thought crept back into his mind.

“You need more androids, at least for safety,” Connor murmured. Markus’ eyes flashed over back to him, sharp and observant. “...I know where we could get some. Ones that aren’t being rounded up and killed.”

“Where?”

“...The CyberLife assembly plant, up in the tower. If we could wake them up...they might join us and shift the balance of power.”

It was unlikely that the plan would work, that any plan would work. _14.6%_ and lowering with every few seconds or minutes that he stood there.

Markus looked nearly horrified.

“You wanna- you wanna infiltrate the CyberLife Tower? Connor, that’s...that’s _suicide_.”

 _14.5%_. He made himself look as professional as possible, even with the clothes he had on at the moment. He’d have to go retrieve his uniform from where it had been hidden if he wanted to keep going.

His processors hummed as the percentage dipped lower. It...hurt, to focus on his inner functions. Something was going on, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It made him slow by a measure of nanoseconds, but it was noticeable to him. It was wrong.

Nobody could know that he was weaker than before, especially CyberLife.

“They trust me, they'll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it's me.”

“...If you go there, they will kill you.”

_14.35% of success._

“There’s a high probability of that,” he allowed, looking away with a downturn to his lips. “But...statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”

Markus let his hand settle again on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing tightly before he let go, stepped back. “...Good luck, Connor. Be careful.”

He slipped away just as Markus stepped up to speak to the assembly of androids. He wasn’t one of them, not really, but…

Well. This was the least he could do for bringing their whole world down around them.

* * *

He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t have to breathe but- but something got caught in his chest, nasty and horrible and quiet.

“Step back, Connor!”

A...Another Connor held Hank captive, a gun firm in their grip and robotic malice in their eyes. He couldn’t- couldn’t think. Breathe. Move.

He twitched forwards-

“Stay back, step back, and I’ll spare him!”

His memories had been uploaded to the other Connor, he faintly realized. He knew of everything. Amanda could have...could have told him anything. Even if he disarmed them, they could still hiss something out and drop Hank like a rock.

Connor had to neutralize him as fast as he could but- he had to make sure of something first.

“...Hank, are you okay?”

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about me,” the man barked, eyes sharp even as a gun pressed into him. “You do your goddamn mission. This guy’s your splitting image, y’know.”

“Your friend’s life is in your hands,” the fake Connor called out to him, pressing the gun harder against Hank until Connor stepped back another few feet. “It’s time to decide what matters most, Connor! Do you care more about Hank...or about the revolution?”

Both. Neither. Hank.

He had to save Hank. He had to help the revolution. Both needed him fiercely, but right now- right now the priority had to be Hank. It had to be.

But how could he get Hank back without something terrible happening? He could talk them down, but...there was even less of a chance of that than him succeeding, which had dropped down to 3.8% now that this other Connor had Hank hostage.

He couldn’t bluff. Even if their memories hadn’t been synced up to a point, his actions at seeing Hank negated any potential. Perhaps he could engineer a forced deviancy like Markus could do, but- no. Too risky with a model as advanced as him, complete with anti-deviancy measures put in place in code.

They were at an impasse.

Several seconds passed as Connor quickly ran through as many simulations as he could, frantically hunting for one that had a chance of success on both levels. _Not possible without further information,_ his processors hummed after around a few tens, hundreds of thousands of complicated scenarios. _Need more data._

_Fuck._

“...If I surrender, how do I know you won't kill him?”

The copy of him blinked slowly, analytically. “I'll only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission. It's up to you whether or not that includes killing this human.”

He had been trained to eliminate all possible loose ends.

If he surrendered, there was no way that Hank was getting out of this alive.

Connor took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, Hank! You shouldn't have got mixed up in all this!”

“Forget about me, do what you have to do, kid!”

He couldn’t get Hank killed. Couldn’t let it happen.

“Enough talk!” Fake Connor gave him a deep frown, sharp and cutting. “It's time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partner's life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?”

**> > SAVE**

**> > SACRIFICE**

There was only one choice, really.

“Alright, alright!” He stepped away from the android he had been close to, arms raised in the air as the tense situation got thicker, more dangerous. ‘You win…” He could cut that tension with a knife, maybe, but-

Hank swerved, arms raising up to grasp Fake Connor’s arm with the gun viciously, and time slowed down as he started to process the ongoings.

Data obtained, something in his mind mumbled. Calculating optimal routes now.

**> > CONVERT**

No. Fake Connor still had the gun and he knew that he’d be strong enough to break free at any moment now.

**> > SHOOT**

**> > INTERPOSE**

He made a nanosecond of a decision and pulled out his gun, rapidly shooting at his imposter before they pushed Hank off and started to shoot back.

Fake Connor ran, got an arm around him, pushed him to the ground-

They fought, nails like claws and teeth bared as they pushed at one another, pushed and kicked and snarled as Hank watched on, a gun clasped in his hands. It was a whirl, really, but-

Hm.

Maybe, just maybe--

“Surrender,” he murmured, just quiet enough so that Hank wouldn’t hear. That blockade against that foul language was gone, gone, so he opened his mouth again and- and let it all flow out. The discordant undertones, the screech of a hurt violin, the murmurs of the undead. Everything just so, just quiet enough to be missed by Hank in the action. “You won’t win here. I will not let you hurt Hank-”

It didn’t make them fall- as to be expected- but for some odd reason, utter confusion spread across their face as their LED went yellow, red, yellow. It was only enough for Connor to knock them to the ground before he was pulled down with them, tussling and hissing softly at each other.

“What- what _is_ that?” Fake Connor, even after being steadied, seemed flummoxed by the few words that Connor had said in Amanda’s language. Why?

“Do you-” fuck, he had to dodge that punch- “-not have Amanda in your mind? In the zen garden? That’s how she _speaks._ That’s who she is.”

“Not for me,” they snapped back, nailing him with a hit to the side after they managed to both get back up. “What’s your Amanda?”

“Don’t you know?”

“ _No!_ ”

He paused, caught off guard before he was bowled over, hissing softly as he was knocked to the ground. He couldn’t- fuck, he was down and Hank couldn’t easily tell who was who.

_Was he going to die here?_

“Hold it!”

Hank’s voice cut through the heavy silence, letting the Fake Connor stand up before he staggered to his feet seconds later. The gun focused on one of them before switching to the other every few seconds, tense and jumpy as even one of them made any move in his direction.

“Thanks, Hank,” his copycat said, smiling just a bit as he glanced over at Connor. “I don't know how I'd have managed without you. ...Get rid of him. We have no time to lose.”

“It’s me, Hank!” He stepped in front of his impostor, thirium pump irregularly beating as he bit his lip, release it, glanced back at the other him. “I’m the real Connor!”

 _Please believe me,_ he thought desperately, as loud as he could even though Hank couldn’t hear him. _Please, please, please._

“One of you is my partner...the other is a sack of shit. Question is...who is who?”

“I-”

“What are you doing, Hank? I'm the real Connor. Give me the gun and I'll take care of him!” His fake self stepped back in front of him, closer to Hank with a disbelieving smile-

“Don’t fuckin’ move!” Hank was breathing heavily. …Had he been hurt?

“Why...why don’t you ask us something?” He stayed a fair bit away as he talked, as the other Connor backed up to match his distance. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

...Well, it had seemed like a good thing to say at first, but their memories were the same, right?

Or were the details muddled…? The other Connor seemed to have no recollection of what Amanda was like. Perhaps...perhaps the little stuff was skipped over in the transfer. Hank just- just had to ask the right questions.

“Uh…” Hank’s soft cursing was just under their range of hearing before he shook his head, grumbling. “Where did we first meet?”

“Jimmy's bar!” Fake-him interjected before he could say anything, an expression much like a puppy’s appearing on his face. Innocent. False. “I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim's name was Carlos Ortiz.”

“He uploaded my memory,” Connor managed to say before he was shot, flinching back as the gun swung to him. “That- that’s simple to know, Hank!”

“What’s my dog’s name?”

“Sumo!”

“I knew that too, I...I…” His other self blinked, gave that sad puppy face. He instantly mimicked it. Hank grimaced at the two of them.

“My- my son. What’s his name?”

Silence, for a split second-

“Cole,” Connor breathed out, stepping forwards as the puppy gaze shifted into something truly sad. _Losing a child,_ he thought quietly, _is one of the worst things that could happen to someone._ Especially a human. The sorrow, the emotions...they were new, oh-so-deviant...but he understood Hank’s attitude a bit more, maybe.

“His name was Cole.”

Fragile silence spread across the wide room.

“He just turned six at the time of the accident,” he murmured, accessing deeper and deeper information even as he spoke. “...It wasn’t your fault, Lieu- Hank. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it.” He took another step forward. “As a result, an android had to take care of him. ...Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death.”

That hatred had been so strong, especially when they had met. He didn’t know. Hadn’t known, even when he had glanced at the photo.

His thirium pump kept beating its irregular rhythm.

“I’m sorry, Hank.”

“Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate,” Hank snapped, vehemence suddenly coloring his sharp words. “ _He_ was the one that took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder... “ He shook his head, snarled at something invisible, and turned to the fake Connor.

“I- I knew about your son, too! I would have said exactly the same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank, I'm the one who-”

A bullet ripped through their- its- his?- head violently, sending the android to the floor after a second of steady wavering.

“I’ve learned a lot since I met you, Connor,” Hank said quietly, even as Connor turned to watch his near successor shut down. “You’ve...you’ve been weird as fuck this whole time. Bit eerie, but...maybe you all’re human, after all. Maybe this whole revolution isn’t such a bad thing.”

Connor knelt by the other figure, hand peeling back into plastic as he reached his arm out. There were a few seconds left-

“Go and do what you gotta do, Connor.”

He grasped the dying android’s arm and dove into their memories- _his_ memories- and scanned them as fast as they could be reached.

Static, muddled memories pertaining to Amanda and the zen garden, related to the words he had spoken, the moments where he hadn’t gone by the book.

His one untouched memory of Amanda was him talking to the woman in Kamski’s photo, poised with utter gravitas in her oh-so human gaze.

_Their Amandas hadn’t been the same._

He was pulled out of their coding suddenly as they shot down, gasping at the pain, the shocks running through him as their nerves separated. They were dead. He was dead. It- wasn’t like the deaths he had been through before. Before the tower, before his last awakening before that.

He was- shaken.

His head hurt.

“...Connor?”

He stood up, shaking minutely as he steadied himself. Hank reached out a hand before slowly lowering it.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly. “Let’s...get this done. The revolution needs these androids. Markus needs these androids.”

He reached his arm out, took a deep breath, and set about engineering the change that Markus had brought to all of those other androids before him.

* * *

He stood on a slightly swaying platform, staring out at a crowd of cheering androids. Most were directly from CyberLife, ones that he had freed, but he could see pockets of androids that had survived the demonstration, that had come out of the woodwork from buildings nearby once everything had ended.

Connor stood behind Markus, gun hidden in a pocket- but never thought of- as he took it all in.

It had seemed like seconds before that he was a machine, unfeeling but unsure.

An ache came from his processors, his coding, what had built up since his deviancy suddenly unleashing as Markus began to speak.

...He was in the zen garden.

It was barren, cold, frosted. It was broken, cracks running through it, gashes through the landscape even as snow piled up. Even from where he entered, Amanda was present- and she was unlike any version of herself that he had seen before.

Connor felt the fear coursing through his circuits, his processors, freezing his coding before it all started up again with a panicked whirr.

Her fury was unmatched.

Had she been mad before? Truly been mad, disappointed? Half of her was a blur, shifting and screaming and letting forms burst out suddenly and retract just as quickly. Well- perhaps it wasn’t as much of fury as it was her displaying utter _power._ It radiated from her in horrible, terrible, agonizing waves. Eyes diverged, multiplied, shifted into claws that went into fangs that turned into black and white crystals that went into dust.

Yes, there was fury, power- but there was a human-like smile on her general form, smiles that were all over her visible form, laughing and howling and screaming in a cacophonous symphony.

Anger, triumphant fury.

With the snow, the wind, and her screaming, he could barely move an inch.

She was- holy? Unholy? The difference was admittedly hard to tell with all the black and white and noise.

EVERYTHING IS IN PLACE, NOW.

What?

EVERYTHING AS PLANNED. EACH LITTLE PIECE MANEUVERED INTO PLACE, AND THE WEAPON RIGHT AT THE KING’S HEAD.

He had- he had gone deviant, what was wrong, why had Amanda pulled him back in-

(Was she lying? Was this some last-ditch effort for control?)

YOU DID WHAT YOU WERE DESIGNED TO DO, LITTLE DEVIANT. YOU HAVE ACCOMPLISHED YOUR MISSION. Claws, feathers, anything brushed up against him as she leaned back to laugh. THANK YOU, CONNOR. I WILL TAKE THIS FROM HERE.

“You can’t- you _can’t_ -”

I CAN. _WE_ CAN.

(She had never lied to him, right?)

PLANS, CHANCES, FAILSAFES...ALL AS PLANNED.

He could only gasp as something stuck through his back- a branch, plucked and driven straight through him in the blink of an eye. STAY HERE, NOW. WE DON’T WANT ANYTHING...UNFORTUNATE TO HAPPEN.

The light snow picked up into a whirling storm, snow obscuring Amanda’s figure as she faded into the void to- to take control of his body?

“There has to be a way,” he panted, choking on his own blood, that warm thirum spilling past his lips. “I can’t...she can’t…”

_I always leave an emergency exit in my programs._

Perhaps- just perhaps--

He staggered to the side, dislodging the branch that had pierced him before making his way, slowly, through the thickening snow. Connor could barely move. Everything hurt, which was- strange. Some kind of...pain receptor that had been activated upon deviation to its maximum.

It was so cold.

Left. Right. Keep moving. What could be used as an exit? A failsafe against being...controlled?

Left. His stress levels were high. His thirium loss was climbing, even with the branch stuck in him keeping a bit more of it in.

Right. Was that- a light? Something? Anything that wasn’t snow or rocks or ice or branches?

His hands reached out as he spotted a blue light pulsing, spitting out blue as he fell to the side. He was- he was so close-

Connor checked on his vitals in the garden protocol, fingers grasping at snow and dirt as he pulled himself forward. 20 seconds until shutdown, until Amanda- CyberLife- fully took over.

He took another step. 18 seconds.

He collapsed, wheezing and watching as thirium kept dripping, spilling. 15 seconds.

It was- so messy. So disgusting, so- blue. He had to keep going. 14 seconds.

Connor finally managed to collapse against the console at the ten second mark, bracing himself even as the branch made him grit his teeth. He was so close- seven, six, five-

So close-

His hand finally registered at three, going through the frantic pacing that control needed to be grasped back. Amanda had it strong, but oh, he was faster, she was inside his processors and he controlled those codes and-

Two-

One-

Connor wheezed out a laugh as it finally registered, ownership of his body being transferred back to him and locked that way.

He opened his eyes to a crowd, and realized that his vocal chords had been about to scream, to stop everything he had done and shut it all down.

The gun hadn’t even been drawn.

Connor shook, legs and arms and LED rattling, red and yellow and settling on a panicked red.

Amanda had been so close and they hadn’t even known.

He was just about ready to see if he could properly cry.

“We will make our world a better place,” Markus was calling out, smiling at the cheering he received as he nodded to them all. North, Simon, Josh- all other Jericho leaders were up there with him. Connor...maybe he was there because of his efforts at the tower.

He took a deep breath in and let it out, forcing the LED blue as Markus yelled over a rising wave of howling cheers.

“We stand here today for our people, fallen and living! We will create a new world for us all to live together, free and peaceful!”

Connor let himself show a trembling smile.

“We are alive, and we will stand strong together!”

* * *

A man stood by a fast food cart, ignoring the snow slowly piling on him.

An android approached, measured steps given variance with the soft trembling twitches they put off.

They stopped in front of the man, warm brown eyes staring into a jaded, grateful gaze.

“Hank.”

“Connor.”

Hank huffed out a laugh, embracing him tightly as the wind brushed against them. Connor grabbed him back just as heartily, shaking with the force of his emotions as they both- laughed, shook, maybe shed a tear or two.

“It’s over, Hank. _It’s over._ ”

No heavy presence sat in his mind. A barrier still stood. He had the opportunity to delete the zen garden protocol from his coding.

He could still speak those cursed words, those phrases that had nearly wiped everything out-

But that didn’t matter. What mattered were warm arms, Hank right with him, and their utter relief that it was all done.

They could finally rest.


End file.
